Honeybee
by Tib Dunncan
Summary: Tracy never thought that one forlorn night spent on The Human Plane, hiding from the embarrassment back home, could change everything; Rae never thought that talking to one familiar stranger, asking him about his woes and hoping to ease someone's troubles, could possibly spark so much.
1. The Human Plane

He wrinkled his nose against the musky odor of damp earth, the oncoming storm, and he leaned back into the metal bench, sighing heavily and swallowing the heat that had pushed its way up his throat. This was the fifteenth redacted assignment that he'd been put on since achieving the title of 'Tooth Fairy,' after working so hard and overcoming the wing discrimination of Fairy. And yet, this was the _ninth_ time they'd pulled him from a job, the main offices cancelling his assignment before he could even reach the residence. It was like a joke to them, letting him get halfway to that dream-like moment of handing over a tooth, a dream that was quickly slipping away, becoming more elusive with every cancelled run, every task set for him. Tracy almost dreaded the assignment slips handed out at the office every morning. If he got one at all, he could almost be sure that it would be cancelled, the slip of paper no more than a scarlet letter reminding him that _he didn't belong there._ He belonged behind a desk, in their eyes.

Still, his assignments were infrequent and, in the beginning, had sent jolts of excitement like electricity through him. Now, after so many months of being the butt of the joke, after so many months of the others trying to break him, make him want to turn over his title and hole himself up in that office again, he was becoming weary of the job. This was not how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to _finally_ be respected, not looked at as if he were one of the disadvantaged. He was supposed to show that that he was _just as good_ as they were.

A steady downpour started, without warning, drenching the parched earth and making the night even darker. There was a steady rhythm of footsteps under the din of the rain, and within seconds a younger woman burst forth from the shroud of water cascading off the roof of the bus stop awing, stumbling into the relative safety of covered stop. She sat heavily down next to him, trying to wring out her clothes, with little success. She was drenched to the bone for the few seconds that she'd been exposed to the elements.

"Well, that was pleasant, wasn't it?" she said bitterly, to no one in particular. He couldn't help but throw a glance her way. The human plane was so dangerous, and it was prudent to know who you ended up alone with. But she was a slight thing, disgruntled and clutching her purse as if it were a lifeline. No doubt she shared his sentiments about her surroundings, as she seemed very reserved, hunched over slightly and turned away from him. She seemed to notice his gaze, distracted and absent as it was, as he'd lost himself in thoughts about earlier that day and forgotten to look away.

It was startling, for her to round on him like she did, up to the elbow in her purse and he was so sure she was going to pull out a bottle of mace. He jumped in his seat and looked away, muttering an apology and hoping she'd leave him be. He didn't want any trouble. He turned his head to the side, facing away from her and pretending to read a public safety poster that had been plastered on the inner wall of the bus stop sanctuary, long since made illegible by graffiti.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice teetering between assertive and fearful. He merely shook his head and muttered more apologies, telling her he hadn't meant anything. "No. Sorry. Do I… know you…? You look awfully familiar."

He looked up, only partially, to meet her gaze and figured that she couldn't possibly know him, even though he knew her. They'd met _once_, during one of the only assignments he' gotten to carry through: A little boy around the area, Jamie Anderson, who had lost a tooth. He'd had a babysitter that night, and she'd woken up to find Tracy standing in the kitchen at the foot of the staircase, just having come back downstairs from retrieving the tooth.

One handful of Amnesia dust and a click of an All-purpose Magic Generator button later, he was back in Fairyland with the tooth, and she had no recollection of the incident, confused as to why the police dispatch was on the other end of the phone line.

"N-no," he stuttered, fear creeping through him. Why did she remember? "No, sorry. Must be someone else you're thinking about."

She looked on curiously before dismissing the notion, shifting her attention to the bus that roared onto the scene. Both stood and darted, one after the other, through the rain and into the iron safety of the vehicle. She made her way to the back of the empty bus, warm and drying with every second the heat blew from the vents. He took his place at the front and silently watched as the lights blurred by. They flew down the roads at a speed that unsettled him, had him gripping at the edge of his plastic seat with white knuckles, though she seemed unconcerned. A sudden thought struck him and he meandered his way to join her at the back while they were stopped safely at a red light. He sat awkwardly next to her and wrung his hands together. "Sorry. You wouldn't happen to know, uhm… where this bus lets off… do you?"

She looked sideways at him. "You just board busses without knowing where they go?" she asked, skeptical.

"Just… I was more concerned with getting out of the rain, allright? It's been a long day."

She set her purse aside and turned to face him. "This bus goes to the mall, the library, the church, and three different street stops." She paused as she watched him rub at his eyes with the bases of his palms. "Obviously hasn't been a _good_ day." She said, gently, smoothing out the wrinkles in his sleeve.

"More or less," he groaned, letting his hands fall to his lap and stretching his long legs into the aisle.

"Do you live in Mesa?" she asked. He didn't seem like he did, certainly didn't sound like it.

He shook his head, "Just passing through," was his answer.

She seemed to shrink for a moment and then bounce right back. "Why don't you come to the church with me? It's single's ward tonight, but not many people show up anymore. I don't think they'll mind, much. Torrential rain and all." She smiled thinly, hoping to elicit something positive from him, but he just shrugged and accepted her proposal. "If you're up to it, you can tell me what's bothering you." She offered tentatively. "I'm Rae," she added, holding out her hand.

Why was this lady – Rae. Why was Rae so willing to hear his grievances about work? He fidgeted uncomfortably before completing the gesture. "Tracy," he returned, noticing how warm her hands were, though she was still shaking for cold. Her hair hung in curtains framing her face and her glasses were fogged from the steam coming off her person.

She eyes his attire, the vest and tie, the gray workpants and the dress shoes. "Did you just get off work?" she asked.

He sighed. "Suppose you could say that. To be brutally honest I never got _on_ work, but yeah."

Rae leaned towards him, squinting in the dim light, her fingers brushing lightly at something pinned to his lapel. When she moved away, he made quick work of removing the little sliver pin, hoping that she hadn't gotten too good a look at it. He dropped it into his breast pocket until it was safer to wear it.

She frowned slightly and opened her mouth to ask about the pin, but the bus came to a stop, a screeching halt and a roaring release as the doors opened with a hiss. He was rather startled by the sudden violence of the bus, and didn't notice her gathering her damp belongings until she called for him. "I thought you were coming," she said gently, allowing him to shake the surprise of the stop and lift himself to his feet. He trailed faithfully behind her and followed her into the small church. The moment the doors opened and they stood in the warm reception room, he wondered just what he'd gotten himself into. She introduced him to the older woman behind the desk who was keeping tabs on everyone, failing to mention that she'd met him twenty minutes ago at a bus stop, before they continued into the next room. It was spacious and hallow with the exception of a few tables and chairs set up at each. She led them over to one, out of the way of the other small groups. Several others shot them odd glances and Rae merely shook her head at them, urging him to ignore them and continue on.

"So what do you do?" she asked, "Your work."

Tracy stuttered around his words, trying to find the closest approximation to explain to her without saying "I'm a tooth fairy." His hands wrung together in his lap and he suddenly became very regretful of engaging with her on the bus. "I, uhm… not for any par-particular… I collect." He settled for that, not willing to elaborate, instead letting her fill in the blanks with whatever seemed appropriate.

"Like a Tax collector?" she asked.

He nodded in approval. "Something like that."

"Okay," she said, leaning in next to him. "So what's got you down?"

He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest and tilting his head slightly. "I…I work with a lot of people who are different than me… well," he faltered. "Well, I'm the different one, really – not many people like me make in into that department, even fewer onto the field, and… they're just not happy with me, yeah? And they make it Hell, they do. Cancelling every assignment I get before I even have the chance to get out there, and they end up giving it to one of the others! It's just, when I go back with no… with nothing collected… I mean it just makes me look like I'm shoddy at this job, which I'm not!" he argued hotly. "I can be just as good as them, I _am_ just as good as them. Or… I – I _would_ be, but they keep getting in the bloody way!"

She smiled gently. "What makes you so different?"

Tracy took a deep breath and unfolded himself, leaning forward on the table, unsure of how to answer her. "It's a, uhm… a disability," he said, and he could feel the color rising to his face, painting the pallor of his cheeks a soft pink, the fire spreading to the tips of his ears and back of his neck as well, and he was grateful for the low light. The words tasted funny in his mouth and he found himself thoroughly disheartened at them.

"You seem fine to me," she said, taking hold of his hand. His eyes widened slightly at her touch and that he could hear a certain pity in her voice. Pity hurt the most, he'd learned over the years. _Oh, that poor boy,_ the patronizing remarks from his youth, in the years where it became evident that his wings were never going to grow in. The pity he'd received at the academy, from the instructors as he watched his class's graduation from the field with the audience. But the pity he heard in her voice wasn't the same. It wasn't _I'm sorry you're different_, but instead _I'm sorry they _treat_ you different. _

That spot between his shoulder blades itched with the compulsion to protect himself, as if he were suddenly exposed and vulnerable. He pressed his back harder against the seat. "That's what I've been trying to tell them, but they just… don't listen. Never do."

"They'll have to someday," she said, her voice soft. "If you earned it."

"But that's the thing! I – I worked _so hard_ to do this, and they're not even giving me a _chance_." The heat pushed back up his throat and he pushed on. "I just – I was supposed to go home, three, four hours ago, you know, but I just don't _want_ to anymore because I keep going back empty handed and no one but the main team knows why. No one will believe me about it, but why _should_ they, they all think I – I _cheated_ or something, no one wants to believe that I can actually _do this_, and – and I don't have wings!" It was an exclamation that presented itself far too quickly for him to keep himself in check. He fell silent and glanced sideways at her, waiting for the appropriate response, the strange look and the confusion, but it didn't come. Instead she just pushed the rain-soaked hair from her eyes and seemed deep in thought. He wondered if she'd even heard him, or what she was thinking about. Hopefully it wasn't about what asylum he must have escaped from. Quickly, he looked away, fidgeting with the hem of his vest.

Rae shrugged, quite animatedly, with a huff. It was impossible to ignore, even in his meek state, and the man began to protest, thinking that her small gesture was meant as a familiar dismissal of his feelings, the way he'd just poured his heart out to her, but stopped himself when he saw her look up at him. "I don't either," she said gently. His shoulders drooped when he realized that she didn't understand. For her, not having wings was the norm, but in the society he lived in, it made him _less_. Of course, she didn't know that, and how could he begin to explain himself to her, to tell her that he was a fairy? Still, with her gentle observation came the reassurance that he wasn't as alone as he felt. Here was this girl, someone he'd met barely and hour ago, and she genuinely cared, she wanted to make him feel better despite not knowing the full scope of his situation. It was such a stark contrast to the blatant mistreatment, the degradation back home, and he found himself smiling despite everything.

There was a stroke of lightning outside and a terrifying crack that made her jump. Reflexively, he grabbed her arm to steady her and she settled down.

The lights died, bathing everyone in the room in darkness, and he could feel her tense under his fingers. There was the collective moan from the group on the other side of the room, but besides that they carried on their conversation, hushed as it was and occasionally drowned out by the crashing thunder. He gave her arm a squeeze and asked her if she was okay.

"All the lanterns were taken out after the last flood. They didn't work anymore and the new ones haven't come in yet and it's just… dark, is all…" she whispered. "Sorry," she said, and forced herself to relax.

He chuckled as another stroke of lightning graced the sky, lighting the entire room in a dazzling, blinding white light for a fraction of a second. "People have good reasons to be afraid of the dark," he said. "You just don't know what's around you. But I don't think you have to worry, you know. Not here, at least."

He could barely see the contour of her face, but she nodded stiffly.

"Are you sure we've never met?" she asked in a hush. She felt silly asking again despite his fervent reassurances, earlier, that they hadn't, but she couldn't shake the feeling. He didn't answer, and she felt the blush rising to her cheeks. For once in her life, she was so grateful for the utter darkness that had swallowed the small church room, so that he couldn't see her shy embarrassment. She was about to apologize for prying when there was a roar of laughter from the other side of the room that startled them both. She felt a hand on her shoulder, his hand, and she was comforted. This flagged some alarm in the back of her mind. For the short time she'd known him, she was oddly comfortable around him; had anyone else touched her so suddenly in the dark, even someone she knew well, she would have been terrified. "A bit jumpy?" he laughed

She began to answer, to let him know she'd felt him jump just as much as she had at the kids' sudden outburst, but another bolt of lightning struck outside the room, bringing with it an immediate crack of thunder that shook the building, rattling the timbers. Rae winced, her heart fluttering at the feeling of the building trembling around her, near what felt like the point of collapse. She clung to his arm, grasping fistfuls of his sleeve. He chuckled lightly, making her cheeks burn with a fresh embarrassment before she felt him shift next to her, moving closer. He removed himself from her vice grip and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her in and calming her from the storm outside.

She leaned into him and couldn't explain the sudden calm, the feeling of safety and the inexplicable comfort of being held.

"So," he said. "Maybe I was mistaken earlier. When I said we've never met."

The words registered slowly with her, and it produced the most wonderful, unusual sensation in her chest. She laughed. "So you remember? Maybe you can help a forgetful girl out?" she asked, and he sighed. Her smile dropped when she heard it. It wasn't a pleasant sigh, something that carried the tune of content or even mere amusement. It was a heavy sigh, and it made her heart sink. She twisted around to look up at him – or at the very least, where she thought he was, as she couldn't very well see him – in concern.

"Wish I could, you know. I do. But we've got rules, and all, and just by _being_ here I must be breaking a dozen at once. I really ought to go. I've been gone far too long, and they _are_ expecting me back." He bent his head and placed a kiss at the peak of her cheek. "Thank you, Rae." He said, and she could tell he _meant_ it. She wished he wouldn't go, wished she could do more for this man she'd met in a forgotten dream, who an hour ago was a complete stranger. She felt him fumble with something at his belt. She sat up so that he could take leave, as reluctant as they both were, unbeknownst to the other.

"Knock'em dead, Tracy," she said, and he could tell she _meant_ it. She wanted him to do well, this girl he'd met hardly an hour ago.

"One thing, before I go," he said, and there was a sudden electric tingle to the air, before the lights flickered back to life.

The edgy nervousness of being swathed in darkness disappeared and she turned back to Tracy, a grin spread across her lips that slowly faded in confusion.

He was gone.

The bell rang, and Mrs. Anderson opened the door for Rae, who stood on their step with a backpack slung over her shoulder and a board game under her arm. It was Wednesday, which meant that she was babysitting. Jamie came to greet her, bounding down the stairs with something clutched in his tiny fist. He seemed to forget his news, when he saw her, propelling himself straight into her arms and letting her pick him up before turning back to his mother. "I lost a toof!" he cried happily, words slurred by the numerous gaps in his teeth.

"Another one?" his mother uncurled his fist to see the slightly bloodied tooth in his palm. She shot a knowing look to her babysitter, then back to her son, bending over slightly to lean in. "Well! The Tooth Fairy is especially busy with you, isn't she?"

Rae shifted him a little further up on her hip and moved into the house to allow Mrs. Thompson to leave with a promise of being home soon, and covert thanks for taking care of the tooth in advance.

Rae spent a good portion of the night playing snakes and ladders with Jamie, unashamed to say that she had almost as much fun as he did. He was a sweet kid, and never gave her any trouble, except at bedtime. He never liked going to sleep when Rae babysat, but the promise of the tooth fairy visiting in the night was more than enough to convince him to change and brush and get in bed. She watched him place his lost tooth beneath the pillow, sent him off with a goodnight and sat in the living room, the news on low to provide ambient noise while she worked, alternately trying her hand at a new sketch style and doing her homework, the latter of which she gave up on around midnight. A quick glance at the clock told her that Jamie was more than likely asleep. She fished a dollar out of her purse and made her way up the stairs to his bedroom, treading lightly.

His Buzz Lightyear nightlight provided enough light for her to maneuver the toy cars and transformers – sometimes it was hard to tell those apart, in the dark – that were strewn across his floor. She stooped at the side of his bed, holding her breath as she slid a hand under his pillow, groping for the small tooth. Her fingers did not find it, but brushed something soft, and she frowned, grasping it between her index and middle finger and pulling it out.

The slip of white paper glowed almost fluorescently in the dim light; there was handwriting on the slick paper, but it was light, and she couldn't read it by the night lamp alone. The small silver paperclip shone, though, and the dollar that was attached was what had been soft to the touch, worn but sturdy, and her mouth fell open slightly at the sight. She stood there in utter confusion, knowing, so _certain_ that she hadn't been up there already. There wasn't a question about it, but who _had_ been? Her heart raced in her chest and she stifled her gasp, voice caught in her throat as Jamie stirred ever so slightly. Fear still rippling through her, she slid her own dollar bill beneath his pillow, gentle as she could be with trembling fingers, and took the papers downstairs to get a better look.

It was just a dollar, from the looks of it. Nothing suspicious about that, but the slick white paper, glossy like something that would come out of a cash register as a customer's receipt printed, was what intrigued her. There was neat cursive sprawled across the sheet, horizontally and in perfectly sized print so that the message took up one line, from end to end.

"_Knocking'em dead. –Tracy"_

A hand flew to her mouth, and she understood.


	2. Fairy Land

It'd been months since the rainy day at Single's Ward, and Rae often found herself waking up in the middle of the night, confused as to where she was and why the thunder had suddenly stopped. Dreams of that man, the stranger at the bus stop who seemed so impossible, haunted her dreams and waking thoughts, until the line between dreams and reality blurred, and she was no longer sure of the man's existence. It was a confusing chaos, to not be sure of something you thought you'd lived, something that held so much meaning for you.

It was that small slip of slick paper, worn and crease by folding and unfolding it so many times, that she kept in a small locket around her neck – a constant reminder that she had not imagined the man who had calmed her so thoroughly and bared his soul, his secret to her, a human.

It had made so much sense the night she found the note. He was a _collector_, he hadn't said of what, though, but his visit that night, his taking Jamie's baby tooth from beneath his pillow, it made everything fall into place, and Rae was struck into awe at the man – was that even the proper term? He wasn't a mere man. He was a fairy.

This, too, provided conflict in her mind. How willing was she to accept that _he_ was a fairy? At a height of six-nine, he challenged everything people believed about fairies, their tiny frames no bigger than your finger and their pixie language. No, he'd fully passed for a human, rain soaked and bothered, that night, and the image, the paradigm shift had burned its way into her mind, made the possibility truth.

Indeed, she often felt mad for believing that Tracy was a fairy. It was a fanciful idea that sounded ludicrous out loud, and she found herself lying awake at night, simultaneously trying to convince herself that she wasn't mad and berating herself for ever believing in such a childish thing as _fairies._

Still, the thought remained lodged in her mind, or perhaps her heart, whichever was more of the dreamer, and she could feel those same dizzying butterflies in her chest every time she woke from one of her dreams.

Rae would have gladly spent the rest of her life pretending, but reality got in the way.

School was more than grueling, but add the stress of being turned down at almost every place of employment in Mesa, having to choose classes for next year, and the constant stress of feeling like one of the most important parts of your life didn't exist, and she hardly got any sleep as it was. Her only reprise in the week was Wednesday nights, when Jamie's naivety and youth was enough to take her mind off more pressing matters.

Every week she'd babysit him while his mother worked the night shift at the office. They'd sit together and watch Disney movies, the old ones that most kids his age have never heard of, let alone seen. She'd cook diner for the two of them and then send him off to bed at eight – a whole half an hour past his bedtime! He was never ill-tempered or rebellious, and he loved when she didn't make him do things he didn't want to, like finish spaghetti or wear pants to bed, and that kept him docile. It was an agreement that Rae and his mother had worked out ages ago, but she'd never let on. As far as he knew, she was the fun babysitter.

It was one of those Wednesday nights that Rae remembered best, even through the thin fog of sleep and time that makes the fantastic seem impossible, when Jamie came out of the bathroom, already clad head-to-toe in his pajamas, and mouth flecked with toothpaste foam. "I lost another toof, Rae." He called down the hall, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. She would have laughed; she thought it was adorable how he couldn't speak correctly with so many missing teeth. She usually _did_ laugh, but this…

She tried to contain her excitement, she tried to make it seem routine and that nothing was out of place, but when she ushered him upstairs to put his tooth under the pillow in a hushed frenzy, he asked her if she was okay. She smiled and lifted him onto the bed. "You lost a tooth," she said. "That means the tooth fairy comes. Isn't that something to be happy about?" she asked, to a wide grin. He let his feet fly out from under him and landed on the bed with a bounce, checking once to make sure the tooth was still there before Rae, hands shaking, flicked the light switch and left him to sleep by the light of the night lamp.

She sat in the living room, stunned at her luck. Jamie had lost most of his baby teeth already, and she'd never expected him to lose one on a Wednesday night with her in the house. She kept the room dark, with just enough light for her to draw by. The television remained off and the only sound was the quiet scratching of her pencil against the paper, and the pounding of her own heart in her ears. She was nervous, for some unspeakable reason. Perhaps it was because tonight was the night she faced reality, whatever it may be: he was real or he wasn't – the only way to tell was currently tucked snugly away under Jamie's pillow.

She passed the time slowly, the knot in her chest tightening and her stomach squirming unpleasantly with every minute that passed. She was jittery and didn't want to sit still, but moving around too much, pacing and busying herself the way she wanted to, would wake Jamie, and it was already early in the morning.

Her breath caught and her ears strained, the utter silence of the house almost painful. She thought back to months ago, when she'd found the note. It had been around midnight that he'd come, if not before. She feared a glance at the clock, knowing that it was well past three in the morning. Had she missed him? Had he been to the house, collected Jamie's tooth and she didn't even know it?

She slipped from her spot on the couch, grabbing a dollar bill from her purse, knowing that there was all too real a possibility of the tooth still being there, and crept up the stairs.

She cracked his door open, the gentle squeak making her cringe. He rarely closed his door, as he liked the extra bit of light that flooded in from downstairs, but it must have shut in the night, when the air kicked on. The doors in her own home did that frequently, and she refused to get her hopes up on something that was so common an occurrence.

His room had changed in the few months since that night, as little boys were apt to do. In place of the tiny town area play rug that had covered the soft carpeting was now a giant baseball. It was an unpleasant reminder that Jamie was growing up fast, phasing out of some of childhood's simpler aspects, maturing in interest and execution. This rug was softer under her bare feet, but the feeling was lost along with most sensation in her extremities. She was concentrating so hard on making as little noise as possible, many things didn't register with her, like the soft glow of the new lamp light that made it harder to see, or the dull, hollow chiming from downstairs, marking the arrival of four o clock in the morning. Her hand slipped under his pillow, groping blindly – not for a tooth. She hoped against hope that she didn't find a tooth. She focused on the feeling, the memory of the soft, time-worn dollar bill brushing her fingers, the slick paper that still hung around her neck, the reminder that maybe, just _maybe_, she was right.

Her heart pounded against her rib cage as she swore silently to herself, nearly elbow deep in the pillow.

Her fingers brushed something and closed around it immediately, and she withdrew her hand slowly as to not wake Jamie.

It sat neatly in the palm of her hand, the small ivory-colored tooth. She felt a lump rising in the back of her throat and a stinging heat behind her eyes. She placed the dollar under the pillow, numb, and clutched the tooth hard, reaching behind her neck as she made her way down the stairs to the kitchen. When she reached the foot of the stairs she bowed her hear and undid the clasp to the small locket, removing it from her person and wanting to chuck it in her bag the moment she got into the living room. She didn't know why she was so disappointed that he hadn't come – that he didn't exist, that he was a dream. A very real dream, by the way she remembered it, and there was still the slip of paper that she couldn't explain. Her chest hurt and she sighed heavily, looking up to place the locket in her bag. The chain slipped from her fingers.

"Perfect timing!"

She nearly screamed, startled by the sudden presence of the man, smiling and looking much happier than he had last time they'd met. She stared wide eyed at him and his smile gradually fell, a look of genuine concern dominating his features. He leaned forward slightly and tilted his head at her. "Are you alright?

Her expression changed slowly, brow creasing upward and her lips pressed into a hard line before she pitched forward, throwing her arms around his middle. He began to stagger away from her but found solid footing, quite taken aback. After a moment she drew back, wearing the biggest grin he'd ever seen on her. She held a fist out and dropped something in his palm, the tooth. He laughed.

"So you figured it out." He said. "Didn't think you'd let yourself believe I was a _Tooth Fairy_, really, but… nicely done!" he placed Jamie's tooth in a small clear plastic case that looked like it was made for jewelry and placed it back in his pants pocket. "Well. Now that that's done, guess I ought to get back to Fairy. Hand in the tooth," he said, as if it were the most exciting thing in the world. To him, she realized, it probably was. Still, she couldn't help but feel another pang of somber loneliness shoot through her, something that happened frequently in these last few months.

"Wa-" she stopped herself, immediately regretting opening her mouth. Tracy turned back to her, curious.

"Wa- what, luv?" he asked.

She hesitated for a moment. "Wait." She answered. "Don't go."

Tracy smiled thinly. "Have to. Got to get this back to the office, processed and labeled and all. It's all a big job, those who do it don't like to be kept."

She swallowed hard and nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly. She didn't want him to go, but she wouldn't argue with him. A sad smile crept onto her lips. "Thank you," she said, softly, his eyebrows arcing up on his forehead, "For letting me… know. For letting me know you're here. A Tooth Fairy." She laughed. "Not exactly normal for you to…" she stopped, lowering her head and letting her hair fall in front of her face to hide the water that collected in droplets on her eyelashes. "Bye, Tracy," she said, softly.

He laughed, a loud, full noise that startled her, and took her by the wrist. "Oh-ho no! Not getting off _that_ easily! Saying "bye," like you expect me to leave without you! Come on, Fairy's a big place! Lots to show you!" And the look on her face only made his smile widen. "Should warn you though. Taking you with me, travel's not going to be as quiet as it usually is. I suggest you, ah, get a good grip, there. Allright." With her firmly attached to his arm, her looked up, dragging her gaze with his, and she gasped at the swirling yellows and pinks and blues that seemed to cyclone into oblivion, falling from the ceiling and producing the most unearthly wind that howled in her ears, that stole her breath and she felt Tracy hold her closer, keeping her safe from the chaotic magic swirling around them, engulfing them and transporting them to – well, she didn't right know. His home, she supposed. Fairy.

She closed her eyes against the barrage of color and light that grew in intensity with every passing moment. Solid ground left her feet and she clung tighter to him, burying her face in his shoulder and unwilling to look up for fear of the beautiful, terrible force whisking her away from her world.

The wind soon died down, the ground solid beneath her feet, and she could feel Tracy's arms around her, his quiet voice asking her if she was okay, did she need to sit down? She peeked from against his arm, unsure of her surroundings or what to expect when she looked, but when she did, a tiny gasp escaped her lips.

They stood in a hallway, at the end of which was a bustling lobby, with probably hundreds of fairies going about their day. Her eyes widened at the sight, at the sheer impossibility of it all, and Tracy laughed, taking her by the hand and leading her into the lobby. She was hesitant to follow, at first, but curiosity and wonder got the better of her and she allowed him to guide her carefully through the sea of wings.

Despite her amazement at the place, she couldn't help but notice, just as he did, the strange looks that were exchanged, the whispers behind hands and the surprised gasps when she walked by.

She stepped forward, closer to him, and he held her, whispering quietly that she needn't worry, to pay them no mind. "It's not unusual for them to see a human. We bring them in all the time, when they owe service. It's just, by the time they get here they're usually in uniform. They're just a little startled to see you here, that's all." He explained, giving her hand a squeeze as two fairies in blue walked across their path, frowning at her and muttering beneath their breaths.

She nodded at Tracy, telling him she understood, that she was okay and that she was still very much excited about being in Fairy Land with him.

She was wide eyed as he brought her through the building, showing her room after room, sometimes lingering in the areas he knew better himself, ignoring any offhanded comments made about his companion. When confronted once about her presence, by a dour looking fairy with silvery blue wings, wearing a similar uniform as Tracy's, he merely smiled and held Rae closer, telling his fellow fairy that she was here on account of her sheer belief. "Anyone who so readily believes in fairies, like she did, deserves a little confirmation, a nod of the head. A tour."

The fairy, whose hair was pulled back in a tight bun, frowned deeper in response, grabbed a clipboard and a stack of papers from the receptionist and stalked off.

Other parts of the building were off limits, with only so few allowed access. Not many fairies knew what lay beyond the west wing, and even fewer dared to break rank to find out. But he took her everywhere he could, showing her how Fairy ran and what was done with all the teeth. He told her that she was the first human to be told these things, how Fairy is kept alive by the magic, the _belief_ of the children who place their teeth under the pillow at night. "That magic latches onto the tooth, and we use them to keep this world alive."

"What happens if children stop believing?" she asked quietly, fearful of the answer as they gazed down at the cesspool of magic below. Occasionally, a tooth would be added to the brew, disintegrating immediately to be assimilated into the mass of magic, a mesmerizing sight.

"Then Fairy Land stops existing." He said, the cheerful edge to his voice lessened, but still present.

Rae vowed to teach her children, to make them believe as long as possible and, if they lost faith, to try to convince them that the wonderful stories she told them before bed were not fanciful myths, but _memories_.

He thanked her, pulling her into a hug and feeling her shake beneath him.

"It's allright, though," he reassured her. "Some departments weren't so lucky, because it's harder to believe. Things like Dragons, things we never see because they don't visit the human plane any more, they're gone. But you're not _supposed_ to see Tooth Fairies. That's what will keep us here. Not seeing us only makes us more real, to children."

They left the chamber, with its acrid magic-heavy air and bad thoughts, and he led her to the other side of the building, back to where the fairies gathered.

He unbuttoned his cuffs as he held the door open for her, and she took a look around. "This, this would be the break room. Best way to tell would be the words 'break room' on the glass of the door, there." He said, and she smiled and gave a little laugh, a pleasant change in demeanor from their previous stop.

They sat down on the lounge, and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes and exhaling slowly. He rubbed a hand up and down the curve of her back as she yawned. He felt a pang of guilt as he realized he hadn't thought this through: Because he was a fairy, the magic in the air alone could keep him awake for days at a time, and often did. But she was unaffected by it, and he'd plucked her from the home at nearly four in the morning. It hadn't crossed his mind that she hadn't slept at all, hadn't crossed his mind that she was probably exhausted.

The room as warm, if not a little bright, but she could feel her shoulders slump and her muscles relax. The room was comfortable and smelled of baked goods. She let her head fall to the side, her body arcing with it until she found something sturdy to support her.

Tracy froze, unsure of what to do with her leaning against him. She was so small, and leaning rather uncomfortably against his shoulder, a feat only possibly by the fact that he was slouched over with his elbows at his knees. He shuffled underneath her and she shot up immediately, eyes flying open and a faint pink blossoming across her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, sorry, I-" she laughed nervously, the blush deepening before another yawn broke the awkward silence.

Tracy felt sorry for the poor girl. He hadn't had the intention of whisking her away and denying her the rest that her body needed. Sleep was often something that slipped his mind, and she hadn't seemed tired when he'd greeted her in the house. He tripped around his words, but figured they were both entitled a little embarrassment. "N-no, no, not at all, you – are you tired? You look tired. Why – why don't you… come here?" The words were out, and they hung heavily between the two as Rae stopped fidgeting and cast a worried glance his way. He gave a gentle tug on her arm. "C'mere," he urged, and she eased herself back to rest against him once more. He used to corner of the seat as support and lay back as well, offering a more horizontal rest for her. "There," he said, her weight on his chest unusual and pleasant at the same time. "Right. You just have yourself a little nap, and then… then we'll go on when you're feeling better, yeah?"

She hummed in approval, already half asleep, one hand clutching at his vest and the other brushing against his neck, her cheek nuzzled into his chest. He could feel the heat creeping up his back and neck, burning its way to his cheeks and turning them a similar shade of pink. He smiled uncertainly at her affection and moved underneath her, placing a hand at the small of her back to keep her still. He closed his eyes after a moment, a strange smile creeping across his lips.

It all ended very abruptly.

Rae woke suddenly when Tracy jumped underneath her. Not having been asleep to begin with, he was well aware of who had entered the break room with the express purpose of finding him and him _alone_. She sputtered and choked back cries of surprise when he pushed her off of him, dazed and confused and before she could even wake up properly, he was prattling away to another woman who was standing before them.

Had she been awake enough to care, she would have turned every shade of red for having been found lying atop him asleep, but as she was greeted with a stern voice, one that sounded absolutely _livid_, and Tracy's stuttering voice, her mind was pulled away from such matters as she began listening.

"Was she issued a summons?" the woman asked, thought it was evident from her tone that she already knew the answer. Rae looked up at her, an older woman who was looking down at Tracy with the utmost contempt; her wings, cream with white feathers whisping the edges, were a pink at the base, a show of the anger that she hid so well in her features.

"W-well, well, no, not – not exactly, a – a uhm, a _proper_ summons."

"Then she has no business being here." She scolded, "What's more is that she's been exposed to our existence _twice_ before. Who am I to assume is responsible for not following protocol? Humans who witness Fairies _must be given a dose of Amnesia Dust_, Tracy, you _know_ that. And frankly I'm disappointed that you, of all people, would so blatantly disregard our rules."

"She – I know this sounds absurd but I figured I owed her, you see – she helped me, a while back, and-"

"We do not owe the humans anything, Tracy." The woman spared her a quick glance, as if simultaneously embarrassed and irritated that she was now awake to witness the conversation. Rae placed a hand on his arm, and he looked over at her in a stupor.

"But I did." He protested. "I was in a rut about how Main keeps messing up my assignments – they wouldn't let me out on a job, they kept cancelling them and handing them off to a – a _winged_ fairy, like they kept second guessing my capability, even after I earned my wings," he said hotly, becoming more and more defensive. Rae kept a sturdy grip on his arm, trying to ground him and bring him out of his passion. "_She _was the only one who showed me any bloody respect since Thompson left, and she helped me. I just wanted to thank her."

"For what?" the woman asked.

Tracy seemed at a loss for words. He sat there in front of his superior for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. "For… for letting me know that I didn't have to be a second-rate Tooth Fairy," he said, confidently. Rae smiled up at him.

The woman's frown only deepened. "Please elaborate."

"They kept taking me off my assignments and handing them off to other fairies. I was already halfway to the house by the time they'd call me off, so I just… I went and got the tooth anyway. And you know what? I got them, each and every one of them!"

The woman took a deep breath and tilted her chin up, looking at Tracy over the bridge of her nose. "So you're responsible for the hiccups in the team quotas?"

Tracy's confident smile fell and the color left his face. "Sorry. What?"

"Dispatch has informed me that several teams have not been able to meet their quotas due to assignment misunderstandings. Are you responsible for this?" The man blanched at her words, stuttering around his own. "It's a simple 'yes' or 'no.' Are you responsible for the failed quotas?" With her hands folded neatly in front of her, even Rae could tell that she was getting irritated quickly, if the deepening hue of her wings was no indication.

"Y-yes." He choked out. "I don't know how… but I suppose I…"

"Tracy, you don't seem to comprehend the severity of your actions. Failing to administer Amnesia Dust on two separate occasions, bringing a human to FairyLand without a summons – you're jeopardizing everything we have by exposing us. And to top it off, you've been disobeying Dispatch and have caused an auxiliary loss. These fairies were not on your Team, Tracy. They were collecting teeth for auxiliary magic. What are we to do now, in the face of catastrophe?"

Her companion was at a loss for words, unable to process _how_ he'd messed up, unable to articulate that there must be some misunderstanding.

"Your wings, Tracy."

He looked up at Lily as she held her hand out.

His fingers trembled as he undid the pin, looking down to watch his own movements in disbelief. The muscles in his slender neck tensed as he fought the urge to react, to cry out in defense. Lily had the power to grant him the wings, and she held equal power to revoke them at a moment's notice. There was no question, no debate. Not with her.

He rested the pin carefully in the palm of his superior's hand, watching her delicate fingers close around it.

"I suggest you take _her_ home," Lily said sternly, casting a pointed glance at Rae. "And begin rectifying your mistakes."

Tracy's shoulders slumped and he stared blankly ahead as she left. His hands shook and his lips were pressed into a hard line, and it broke her heart to see him like this. She placed a tentative hand on his arm, and he barely responded, giving a startled jump, but otherwise paying no attention.

"Tracy," she said softly, hearing the crack in her own voice. "Tracy, I'm so sorry, I-"

He stood suddenly, pulling her up with him and wrapping his arms around her. "Think we ought to go home." He said, and hearing his voice, dull and monotonous and it _hurt_ because she knew _he_ was hurt.

She felt tear welling up behind her eyes, "Tracy, I'm sorry, I _never_-"

He hushed her, running a hand through her hair. "S'not your fault." He said gently. "Now, c'mon, before Lily gets mad at you, too."

In the month between visits, Rae often found herself just wanting to be held, by him. The feeling of him holding her close was so comfortable, but so _wrong_. She let out a muffled cry and extended her arms, pushing away from him. He seemed to be in a stupor as she staggered back, free of his grip. "What're you—Rae, _Rae_!"

She didn't listen. Her feet pounding the cool marble of the floor as she ran. She didn't hear him calling for her, and she wouldn't have turned back if she had.

Other fairies in the halls stared as she ran through their ranks, whispering behind their hands and batting their wings in agitation. Another fairy caught her, clad in the same gray and blue uniform that Tracy wore, and she could feel the hot tears stinging her eyes as he grabbed her around the waist and she struggled. He was dark-haired and much shorter that Tracy, and he spoke first, calm despite her erratic movement. "Calm down, now. Are you lost? How did you get here?" he asked.

She stopped moving, panting hard in his grip. "Lily," she said, choking back tears. "I need to talk to Lily."

He seemed confused for a moment, and one of the other fairies gave him a hard jab in the ribs that set him back on track. "Yeah. Okay." he said, guiding her through the sea of gossamer wings. "I'm sure Lily will be interested to meet you. You're not a fairy, are you?" She shook her head 'no' as they continued walking, silently memorizing the path from the break room to their destination. "Didn't think so." He said thoughtfully. "Don't look like one."

Indeed she didn't. Despite the anatomy similarities, the ability for a human to pass as a wingless fairy and vice versa, her dress alone was enough to convince everyone in the room of her otherworldly origins. She wore a simple deep purple tee and a pair of gray jeans, whereas normal fairy garb consisted of a silk pajama-like outfit. Even to the wingless fairies, ones like Tracy and this man, who were dressed in the blue-gray suits, she looked as out of place as she was.

She let him lead her through the halls, knowing she'd be hopelessly lost without a fairy guide. She only wished it were Tracy, and began regretting running from him, knowing that he was going to take her home and leave himself to clean up the mess she'd gotten him into.

The entryway was large, much larger than any of the other doors in the building, an great arc that swept far above their heads and let out into a great office that was decorated with bookshelves, tables, chairs and a great glimmering desk in the middle of it all, facing the door.

The woman, Lily sat at attention and watched the man escort her into the room, detaching and leaning over the desk to whisper to his superior about the situation, the girl's state and Lily just nodded, thanked him warmly and dismissed him, leaving Rae alone in the room with her.

She stood there, cheeks burning with a feverish tinge from suppressing herself, her anxiety for Tracy and the intimidation of this fairy godmother, looking over her knowingly, knowing who she was, what she was, why she was there in the first place, and – undoubtedly – why Rae stood before her now. Lily offered the girl a seat, and she hovered awkwardly over it for a moment before accepting, folding her hands in her lap and sniffling. Both waited for the other to speak first.

Lily took the initiative. "I assume you're here on behalf of Tracy."

She swallowed hard. "Well…he doesn't know where I am, actually. Sort of…"

"Ran off?" Lily asked, and the girl nodded stiffly. "Well, you're here now. Let me be the first to apologize for this whole ordeal," she said. This confused Rae, but she went on. "Often, it takes your people a bit of time to adjust to us, to Fairy Land, and I'm sure you're more than flustered."

Rae shook her head. "It doesn't matter about me, just…please don't do this," she said, much to the woman's surprise. When she inquired what, Rae felt that familiar painful heat rising in the back of her throat; goading the feeling on was the memory of the despondent look on Tracy's face, that devastating shock and how hurt he was by what, to Lily, was the simple action of revoking his wings. "Please, ma'am. He didn't know. It was… it was _my_ fault, I told him to go… to go for it, knock'em dead and ignore the cancelled assignments, he just… he didn't know. And it doesn't make sense, because they were _his_ assignments to begin with, and they were taken away before he could do anything because the people – _fairies_ – the fairies at dispatch they – they didn't _want_ him to be out there. They were _his_ assignments…" Rae choked on her words and stopped short, feeling a pinpoint of heat roll down her cheek. Lily's eyes widened. "Please don't take his wings." She breathed. "They're everything. He worked so hard. Please."

Lily watched as Rae wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her sleeves. This young human girl was so concerned for Tracy, who, for all intents and purposes, was nothing short of a stranger. A stranger that had taken her from her home in the middle of the night, to boot. And yet here she was, broken over what had happened to him and convinced it was her doing. Lily ran a hand along the edge of the desk in thought, coming to a rest on the tray of small boxes.

Rae paused for a beat and then continued. "Do you know what it's like to be a wingless fairy?" she asked, her voice low and dull. She stared at a blank spot at the front of Lily's desk. The woman stopped, taken aback by the question.

"Do you?"

Rae nodded and fought the pain in her throat. "It's lonely." She managed. "It's lonely and it's worse because people tell that you're not _really_ but even the people like you – even the other wingless fairies, even they're different." Lily came to a stand still on the other side of the desk and folded her hands in front of her, listening at attention. "And you just don't know what to do with yourself anymore because _everything_ you do isn't good enough. Everything except what _they_ want you to do. And he's – he's…" she swallowed and pressed her lips together. "He just doesn't deserve this."

Lily stood, and beckoned for Rae to follow her, back through the halls and Rae held her breath, recognizing this as the path back to the break room. She wanted to run ahead of Lily and find Tracy and just hold him and tell him that everything would be okay, but she held her place, trailing faithfully behind the woman with the grand wings, Her heart was lodged in her throat at the thought that she, the maternal figure, the queen of the empire built, could easily break him further. She almost wanted to cry out, beg Lily to leave him be, but she didn't dare. She wrung her hands together and sniffled, stifling her tears as she'd learned to over the years.

They came to the door, unmistakable for the words plastered across the glass in a fine print, and Lily held the door open. "After you, I think," she said, and Rae wasted no time, rushing into the room to find Tracy still sitting there, bewildered. Seeing her, he rose and allowed her to throw her arms around his middle and hold him tightly, and he returned the gesture. "Where…?"

Lily followed after, and when she entered the room, the man saw her and froze, drawing Rae in protectively. "I – I was just taking her home, Lily. She-"

"Ran off. So I've heard. She paid me a visit, as it happens, and we had a little chat." Rae took his trembling hands and he looked down, seeing her sympathetic smile. Lily went on. "She's quite concerned for you, Tracy. Seems to think that it's _her_ fault that I've taken your wings."

Those words were salt in an open wound to him, and he suppressed the rising pain in his chest. "It's not," he said solemnly, and he wanted her to know he meant it. He held her close and smoothed down her hair, kissing the crown of her head. "It's not your fault." He said softly. She closed her eyes and leaned into him.

They were given a moment before Lily continued. "It's not hard to see that she cares about you, but _this_ – the pure emotion for you, for what's happened. Somehow, she understands better than any of _us_, I think, how you feel." She reached into her blazer pocket and removed a small silver object, holding it tightly in her fist. "Perhaps she doesn't quite understand magic as you and I do, Tracy, but she certainly has as much of it in her heart. She was quite literally moved to tears when your greatest achievement was taken from you, and her argument asides was convincing. Please accept my apologies for this misunderstanding. I'll talk to the dispatch team as soon as possible, because she's right: You have those wings for a reason. You're a Tooth Fairy, and they shouldn't be able to take that away from you." Lily looked down at Rae and smiled. "I think, perhaps, you two ought to continue this conversation back on the human plane."

Tracy's eyebrows arced up his forehead. "You mean that?"

Lily merely smiles and turned to leave, looking back over her shoulder at the pair. "Certain types of magic are not to be tampered with, Tracy. You never know." And with that, she left them.

Tracy eased them back onto the couch, both needing a little time to collect themselves before heading back. She leaned against him and he held her, side by side, and he leaned down to kiss her cheek, holding her close, and she returned the gesture.

"Thank you," he whispered, letting her settle more comfortably against him.

"They're your wings." She mumbled into his chest. "You _earned_ them."


	3. Magic

Tracy fished his phone out of his pocket, pressing himself further into the bush. His phone line was supposed to be used in emergencies only, especially when he was on an assignment. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that Dispatch was on the other end. He accepted the call, holding it up to his ear and whispering harshly into the piece. "What is it, mate, I'm right outside the window. Really you could not have picked a more inopportune moment-"

"Tracy," he heard, and he recognized it as Lily's voice, which was unusual. "There's been a change of plans. We've dispatched another fairy to take care of this assignment, but we need you back here. Something's come up."

Tracy frowned. They were replacing him _again_. He fumed, biting back the urge to argue with her, and spoke bitterly into the phone. "Isn't there anyone else who can-?"

"Of course there is, Tracy," she said, and her voice was calm and understanding. She knew he would react badly to being called back from an assignment. "But _you_ ought to be the one to take care of it."

He licked his lips and hissed into the mouthpiece. "Fine. I'll be back soon as I get out of this bush."

He pulled himself from the foliage, suit getting snagged and stuck on the twigs as he backed up. He wasn't particularly happy about being called back to Fairy again, but if Lily had found it so important as to make the call herself, then there was no question about where he needed to be. He stumbled out of the shrub with a mighty rustle of leaves, and almost immediately afterward, the light in the child's bedroom flicked on. Tracy swore under his breath and willed himself home, dissipating into thin air and arriving in the lobby of Fairy. Lily stood amongst the chaos, hands folded patiently in front of her as Tracy plucked a stray twig from his waistband. "Glad to see you made it back in one piece," the woman said. "I trust your time as a Tooth Fairy hasn't tarnished your astounding ability as a caseworker."

"Is that what this is about? You're putting me back on someone's case? Who is it this time? Some hard-headed father? Overzealous teacher? What?" Tracy was not opposed to working a case – admittedly he was quite good at it. Better than he was at being a Tooth Fairy, but then again he'd only just started that job. He'd been a Caseworker Fairy for ages before that – he just found that, now that he was given a choice, he had hoped to leave the desk and the paperwork behind. After the incident with Dispatch (as it turned out, one prejudice fairy mucking up the whole system) he'd hoped to get on with his job, with no more interruptions. Clearly the universe had other plans.

Lily led Tracy through the halls to the break room, where his new charge was waiting for him, or so he was told. Tracy wasn't _mad_, exactly, to be put back on as a caseworker. He knew, now, that he was trusted with the task, thought competent enough and recognized throughout the company as the Tooth Fairy that he was. But being assigned a case, after so long, was just… a surprise.

He dreaded, actually, the process of meeting his new charge. More often than not they were surly fathers who had, in a fit of anger, told their child that there was no such thing as fairies, or had destroyed their innocent fantasies in some other manner, and in no way were those types of people happy to be in the situation they found themselves in after a summons, often taking it out on him.

Lily led him over to a corner of the room; sitting in a single armchair with another caseworker fairy standing guard beside her was a younger girl, clad in the usual pink tutu uniform of a Tooth Fairy, a pair of lavender wings gracing her back.

Tracy's breath caught and he moved towards the girl who looked up at him in bewilderment. Her fists clenched in her lap and she stood, her escort reaching for her to restrain her. It was unusual for charges to be given escorts, and Tracy imagined that she must have put up a struggle, something out of fear for the situation. It wasn't all that impossible that the place would terrify her, not now after she was issued a summons. He motioned for the man to stand down. He knew that she wasn't a threat, and he finally understood why he'd been called in for a case after nearly three years of work as a Tooth Fairy.

He moved closer to her, pushing back her hair and cupping a hand to her jaw. With a snarl, she pushed him away, looking angry and appalled. He pressed his lips together and nodded curtly, turning back to Lily. "I understand. I do." He said. "And I accept. I'll help her."

"I don't need any help," she hissed. "I _need_ to get these ridiculous wings off and get home."

Tracy looked back at Rae with unmistakable sadness in his eyes, and she seemed to be taken aback at his expression. "That's where you're mistaken, my dear." He nodded at the fairy behind her and he went off, back to his office. "If you'd come with me?" He asked, gesturing for her to follow him.

"I'm not going with anyone until _someone_ tells me what's going on." She said hotly, though with less conviction that her previous outbursts had.

"That's precisely what I intend to do, Rae." He answered gently, guiding her. She seemed shocked for a moment at the fact that he knew her name. He led her to an office – not _his_ office, the one he'd worked in as a caseworker. It was the office of another fairy who wasn't in at the moment, but it would have to do. They sat down together, and the veil of anger, the rebellious attitude she'd held in the presence of the others fell away, revealing a weary, jittery girl. He felt bad for her, softened his voice and had her sit on the opposite side of the desk. "You don't know where you are?" he asked, and her gaze hardened and fell on him. "No. 'Course you don't. Okay," he sat back in his chair, drawing one leg up to rest his ankle on his knee and folding his hands in front of him. "Well we might as well start back at the beginning. This is Fairy Land. I'm sure you've gathered that, ladies and blokes running around with wings on their backs, your own." He gestured to the light purple wings now sprouting from her back. "You're _here_ because of something you've done. I apologize for my lack of knowledge on the situation. I'm not a Caseworker Fairy anymore, and this was rather sudden. At any length, you're here because you robbed a child of fantasy. Dissemination of Disbelief, that, and it's looked down upon here. Telling children that there's no such thing as magic, not a good thing to do."

"I didn't tell anyone there was no such thing as magic. I said there was no such thing as fairies." She folded her arms across her chest, leaning back and lifting her chin.

"A lie nonetheless, as you can see. Those wings on your back ought to be proof enough." he quipped. "Now, the normal procedure would be to put you into flight training, gear you up and give you a week's Tooth Fairy duty. By that time, those who cross this path have seen the error of their ways, and everything's better, but I think we've got something a little more complex going on here with you." He planted both feet on the floor and leaned forward. "You don't know anything about this place, about me?"

Rae frowned and shook her head exasperatedly. "Why should I? This has got to be some… hallucination, or fever dream. This is mad." The last words had a certain force to them, but they came out hushed, not quite certain as she ran a finger over the tufts of feathers at the end of her wings, shivering slightly as she _felt_ it, an extension of herself.

He heaved a sigh. "No reason. No reason. Well, there _is_ a reason, but it's not… important, right now. Okay. Listen, because of your, ah, special history with Fairy – no, don't give me that look, just trust me on this – they're not making you undergo quite the same regiment as the others."

"Then what?" she asked, quietly.

"No idea!" he clapped his hands together, standing. "We'll make it up as we go. To begin with, I suppose I could give you a, uhm… a tour of the compound? How's that sound? Get you used to the place. You've already seen the Lobby and the Break Room, so… what do you say?"

She nodded tentatively. Tracy could tell that she was scared and confused and angry. He smiled and reached out, offering her his hand and she took it, letting him lead her from the small office. He held her close, warmly and hoping it didn't seem like he was trying to restrain her. He wanted her to calm down and open up to him.

He led her down the halls, retracing his steps from so long ago, when he'd shown her the compound the first time. He knew where they needed to be, but dreaded taking her back into the power plant. He knew how hurt she'd been last time he'd told her, and no part of him wanted to do that again, even if it meant helping her. Still, he held the door open for her, letting the electric chill of magic waft into the hall. She staggered back momentarily, ripping her hand from his and looking at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Gently, as to reassure her, he took her hand back and led her into the room. She shifted uncomfortably as they leaned together at the overlook and stared down at it, the massive vat of pastel magic, in one of its purest forms. Her hands, trembling, gripped the rail as she looked down, pale and wide eyes, at the swirling colors. Slowly, his voice low and stuttering, he related to her the purpose of the room, collecting teeth and what happens when children stop believing. A sideways glance told her that she was trembling, peering over the rail. He laid a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

She swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath as tears began escaping, trickling slowly down her cheeks and he watched it with a strange curiosity as it lingered for a moment on the peak of her chin before falling, jumping from the relative safety of her body into the abyss before them, added to the powerful mass below them. Tracy watched its descent, leaning carefully over the railing to see. The magic swallowed the teardrops, the impact rippling the surface ever so slightly. Other than that, there was no reaction—

The whole of the vortex below them surged a violent purple, cycling back through every color of the visible spectrum before settling back down, colors reverting to their usual cool pastels. His eyes widened and he shot back, dragging Rae with him as the room gave a might quake.

It only lasted seconds, and things calmed down quickly, as if nothing had ever happened. Both leaned against the doorframe that served as the entrance to the room, bewildered and, to be fair, a little shaken.

"What was that?" she asked, breathless. "Does that usually happen?"

He stood straight and shook his head. "Not that I know of." He took her by the hand and led them safely away from the room. Of course he knew what had just happened. Whether or not he was willing to share that knowledge with Rae yet was another matter all together. "Come on."

Tracy was becoming more and more concerned for Rae. It wasn't enough that she evidently had no recollection of her previous visit to FairyLand, but she was hurt and confused and so many other negative emotions. He wanted her to open up to him, to trust him enough to tell him what had happened, to her knowledge, to let him help her. They wouldn't make any progress if she distanced herself from him like this.

They walked the length of the building, and he took her to the offices, showed her where the majority of the work in Fairy went on. Gigantic mailrooms with correspondences to every fairy employed, assignments and cases and odd jobs of all sorts, things that most people could never begin to imagine, and it was all coordinated by a specific team of fairies. She found this amazing, seemed to grasp how massive a scale they were working on, though he doubted she truly understood, not like she did last time.

He was beginning to see why Lily had called him in. Of course, he'd _seen_ it the moment he'd stepped foot in the Break Room, but _now_ he could see so many more dimensions to their problem. Rae was not a dream killer. She was the girl who had believed in fairies for months with nothing but an old scrap of paper as proof. _This_ was not normal for her, and he'd never expected to see her here under these circumstances. He would have to be careful or else he could end up dragging her further under.

Still, Fairy was only so big, and he was so keen on gaining her trust. Every time he tried to bring it up, to strike conversation with her as to make progress, something would get in the way. Whether it was a stray phone call or another fairy intercepting them in the halls, asking Tracy to run something down somewhere or even just trying to make conversation, any distraction was too great of a distraction. The last thing he wanted was for it to seem to her like she wasn't priority. If there was one thing he'd learned about dream-killers, charges that were put under his care, it was that they felt out of place enough without being shoved to the side or made to feel like they weren't much cared for, especially the younger ones. While Rae was not particularly young, she was still a good deal younger than many of the humans that are summoned to FairyLand, and he had to be careful with her.

Fairy was not the place to do this, to be gentle and understanding of _her_ and – at the same time – acting as her outlet, trying to get her to share what was on her mind with _him_, a complete stranger.

The thought struck him as a whim. Perhaps they didn't _have_ to do this at Fairy. She was, after all, much more accustomed to the Human Plane, and that could quite possibly calm her nerves and let her relax around him. Despite the pair of wings on her back, she was still human. Perhaps, with his lack of wings and some familiar settings, things would seem more normal for her.

He told her as much of the plan as he felt was necessary – "Why don't we head back over the your world? Get some fresh air." – and whisked them both away from the chaos of the compound.

The night was cool and crisp, and Rae shivered lightly, being only clad in tights and a tutu, neither of which provided much warmth. Tracy smiled slyly and unbuttoned his vest, draping it around her as they walked. It didn't quite fit with her wings in the way, nor did it provide much warmth, but it was enough to stop her shivers, and she smiled appreciatively, thanking him as she pulled it snug around her shoulders.

The moon, glowing bright above them, lit their path in an old garden park. Rae didn't know where Tracy had taken them, but hadn't had the mind to ask. Her thoughts were on more pressing matters as they walked together in relative silence.

As an extra measure of keeping her warm, as well as one final test of the waters between them, Tracy drew and arm around her, hugging her close to him as they went on. When she didn't pull away, instead leaning her head to the side to rest on his shoulder, he spoke, slowly at first. "Remember how I told you this was all very sudden, and I didn't get a good idea of your situation before taking the case? Why don't you go ahead and tell me why it is, exactly, that you're here? Assuming you know, of course."

Rae took a deep breath, calmed by the night air. "I do. It's… well, a bit embarrassing, actually, in light of recent events." She laughed lightly.

"I won't judge. I just want to get a better understanding of what happened to you. People don't just get handed a summons for nothing, you know, and everyone's case is different. Met this bloke once, Derek Thompson. Yes, _that_ Derek Thompson," he added, at the look on her face. "_Worst _Tooth Fairy we ever saw. Turned out _his_ dreams had been crushed, too. Took some work, that did, getting him back on the straight and narrow. That was his story. What's yours?"

Rae shook her head. "I don't know." She muttered. "I mean, I know what I did wrong, and I did it because I was just… angry. But I don't know _why_ I was angry. I'm angry all the time, lately."

"You don't seem angry now," Tracy pointed out, and she laughed.

"Well count yourself lucky for that. I… I don't know. I had a bad day, I guess, and when I ended up at my friend's house, we were trying to do homework, an important project for school, and her little sister wouldn't leave us alone about playing fairies. I just… lost it." She let out a forced laugh. "Broke the project, too.

"Did you."

She nodded, sighing. "I don't know why I did that, any of it. I've just… never been so _angry_ before, my whole life. None of it makes sense, now that I'm thinking about it."

"No case ever makes sense at first," he said. "Because rarely do we just get someone who's genuinely terrible. They're just broken, sometimes, and we have to fix them."

There was silence between them, space filled by the constant chirping of the crickets and night bugs, as she contemplated this.

"Am I broken?" she asked.

Tracy took a deep breath, trying to hug her tighter. "Yes." He said solemnly. "But it's nothing that can't be fixed. And then you'll be tip-top, like nothing ever happened."

Perhaps that wasn't what she wanted to hear, that she was _broken_. Who ever did? But it was important that she know that something had happened to her, something had changed her and that he was going to be there for her until everything was put right.

"And you can make me feel… better?"

He nodded as they rounded into the garden, and he had an idea, something to calm her nerves after the stress of being whisked away from her home in the middle of the night, being pressured and confused and unsure of what she had once thought was truth. Being brought to FairyLand was shocking for any human, even her, the first time she'd come, but the added shock of discovering that fairies not only existed, but survived as a whole other race, a civilization not unlike their own and they weren't too different from humans, was enough to stress anyone out.

He led them into the middle of the garden, which was richly blooming and decorated with small stone statues that guarded certain plants of played within the bushes. "I think this is a good spot," he said. "Go on, lie down."

"Are you sure this is safe? I've got _wings_, what if someone sees me, I can't-"

Tracy grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. "You're safe with me. I won't let anything happen, allright? Lie down," he sat on the grass and she followed. They lay in opposite directions, cheek to cheek and he reached over his head for her hand. "A long time ago, you made me a promise," he said quietly, over the din of the crickets.

"I only met you yesterday," she said, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice. This was a positive sign. Still, her words, her clear disbelief hurt terribly somewhere deep inside of him.

"A long time ago," he repeated, "In a dream, if you fancy. But it was _you_ and you made me a promise. Do you remember what that promise was?"

"I'm sorry, I don't." she said softly. He could hear it in her voice, that she felt bad for not remembering something that was clearly so important to him.

"S'allright. I'll tell you: You promised me that you would always believe in fairies. You vowed that you'd teach your children, and keep _them_ believing for as long as they would. And when they stopped believing, you'd tell your secret, that all the stories of fairies you told them before bed, of a human in Fairyland, they weren't just stories. You'd let them know they were _memories_, and you'd help _them_ believe, too. But there's something I just can't figure out," he finished thoughtfully.

"What's that?"

"Why _you_ stopped believing."

He felt Rae shift next to him. "Tracy," she said, her voice thick. "This is going to sound… mad – though, a few hours ago, so did the thought of _fairies_. But… I'm scared."

"What about, luv?" he asked, gently, turning his head slightly to face her better. He didn't want her to be scared. He could see her lips tremble as she took a breath.

"I don't know," she said, finally. "Everything? FairyLand, and – and _you_."

"Me?" He propped himself up on an elbow, turning to face her completely. "Oh, no, Rae… I'm not… I'd never hurt you, you don't have to be… _afraid_. Ever."

She looked up at him, not moving. "I know," she said, swallowing. "But I've just got this… _feeling_. I don't know what it is, and with _you_ it… it hurts." She choked. He sat up, drawing his lanky legs to his chest and turning himself around to lay the same direction as she was, drawing her in and propping her head against his chest.

"Oh, Rae," he breathed, pressing his mouth to the crown of her head. "You don't know the half of it."

Her breath hitched every so often when she spoke, and he could tell this was hard for her. "I – I don't even know _why_, but I just know that it _hurts_, and it's been like this for almost three years. I can't remember why, but it hurts, like… like…"

"Rae, tell me something." Tracy, asked, furrowing his brow and holding the poor girl to him. "Have you ever been in love?"

She sniffled against him, rubbing at her cheek with the back of her palm. "I – I don't think so," she muttered, her voice cracking.

He rubbed a hand up and down her shoulder, trying to calm her. Perhaps they were getting closer to righting everything that had gone wrong. His heart was heavy in his chest with fear. "Have you ever had your heart broken?"

She nodded, screwing her face up and burying it in his chest and clinging to him.

"How?" He asked, "How could you have had your heart broken, if you were never in love? Something's not right here. This is what went wrong, isn't it?" his voice was gentle. He was sure she would have no idea what he was talking about, but it was all slowly making sense.

Tracy could almost hear Lily's voice in the back of his head. "_Certain types of magic are not to be tampered with, Tracy. You never know._" The way her tears had caused a surge in the pool of magic had been terrifying and almost impossible all at the same time. He knew what could cause something so strong – it had to be stronger than the magic itself. A _stronger_ magic; magic in its purest form.

"Rae," he said, his throat constricting, trying to stop him from going on. "I think you have. You _have_ been in love."

She shook her head against him. "No, Tracy, I haven't."

"I'm going out on a limb here, bear with me. Love is…" he trailed off, fishing for the correct word. "Mysterious." Rae laughed weakly into his chest. "No, no! It really is. It does funny things to the mind… Sometimes, those things aren't always _good_ things, y'see? Sometimes, if something goes wrong, Love tries to correct itself. It tries to cover up that anything went wrong. I think you _have_ been in love, and that's why you're so hurt. Love is _magic_, Rae. The oldest magic there is. Pure and stronger than anything we can extract from a tooth. That's why the pool surged, earlier, I think. It was just a few tears, so nothing to sustain the reaction, but you saw it clear as I did."

She calmed against him, at his touch. "I think I'd remember being in love, Tracy."

"Not if you were hurt. Not if you were so hurt, more than anything you feel now, that it became _too much_. You loved _too much_ and it hurt you."

"I can't imagine anything hurting more than this," she said. "It's like I've been living in a fog for nearly three years. Nothing makes sense anymore and everything hurts. Little, stupid things like my friend's sister going on about fairies. Which," she laughed weakly. "Which I'm thoroughly convinced exist, by the way."

He thanked her. "Don't you worry," he said softly, holding her closer. "It won't be like that for much longer. You'll see."

She sighed, pushing the hair from her eyes and laying her head back to look up at him. "I sure hope you're right."

He hushed her, running a hand through her hair. "I promise, it won't."

"I hope you're better at keeping promises than I am," she said, closing her eyes and pressing her cheek against his chest. After a minute or so, her breathing evened out and he knew she was asleep.

He was sick with worry, now. She was acting very unusually, except that _he_ understood it perfectly. She had fallen in love, very deeply in love, three years ago.

With him.

His heart hammered against his ribs and he feared it would wake her, the sound was so loud. The situation made perfect sense, now. It hadn't then, when it truly mattered, when he was so close to her – close enough to inspire a spark of magic in her that took control, bloomed and grew and became passion.

He slid out from under her, slowly and carefully as he was trained to, and scooted to the side, sitting up and placing his hands firmly on the earth behind him, trying to stop the world from spinning. She lay peacefully in the long grass, the blades framing her form, sprawled and lonely, now, her wings flattened beneath her.

How long had it been since they last saw each other? Well over two years. Things had gone swimmingly at first; he dropped into her bedroom after everyone but she was asleep, and they'd always just talk. Sometimes he'd teach her things about fairies and Fairy Land, sometimes she's teach him things about any number of subjects. Fairies very rarely had any formal education that wasn't part of the Tooth Fairy Training Academy's curriculum – one could imagine what was included under that – and often what Rae had to offer him, even as trivial as she found it, was a wonder to him. Most of what she taught him was about humans or the human plane, something he thought he would know more about considering Tooth Fairies work there.

It was all very interesting, and they had many good nights together, but once school ended and she was shipped off to camp, boarding with others in the same room, he couldn't very well visit her like he used to. When she returned two months later, he went to her one night and apologized, said he couldn't stay, Dispatch was calling assignment after assignment and how exciting was that? She'd given him a quick hug and off he'd gone, not thinking it of any major consequence.

Finally the onslaught of assignments died down enough for him to visit her again. When he arrived at her bedroom window, peering carefully in to make sure there was no one in the room with her, he saw her fast asleep in bed, and decided to leave her be.

And so went the nights after, every night, every time he came to her window, she was turned with her back to him, sleeping soundly, and he hadn't the heart to wake her. He figured he'd catch her soon enough, but the time went on and there she was, never stirring from her sleep or straying from the schedule, laying herself to bed so early in the night, far before he had the chance to get to her house, what with the assignments that took place regularly.

When the assignments picked up again shortly after Halloween – they always did – he found him going to her house less and less, the fleeting visits becoming infrequent and, after so long, stopping all together.

He wiped absently at his face, sitting up and slinging his arms over his knees.

Suddenly, he found himself wondering if she were truly asleep all those nights he found her lying in bed. Had she been waiting for him, wide awake and expecting him to visit? Or had the months they hadn't seen each other, between her camp and his work, done the deed? No doubt that was a contributing factor to this whole mess.

She'd loved him.

The thought played over and over again in his mind, distressing him greatly, more so by the accompanying thought that he'd _broken her heart_, taken from her that which, in its absence, had crippled her, cast a cloud over her mind to help her recover, and _still_ hurt her.

He'd never wanted to hurt her.

He gave a quick glance her way. How was he going to explain this to her?

He sighed and rocked her shoulder gently, waking her from her spot on the ground. She hummed in confusion and looked up at him. "Are you okay?" she asked, and he helped her up to her feet.

He knew she could tell something was troubling him, and there was no sense in denying it. If he'd learned one thing about her in those months before everything had gone wrong, it was that she was persistent. "Let's go back to Fairy," he said, "and we'll talk about it there, over a cuppa tea. How's that sound?"

She could hear the distress in his voice, and she grabbed his hands, nodding silently and letting him bring them back to FairyLand. The break room was nearly empty, and he was grateful for that, as they sat down at a small table, opposite each other and he could see the genuine concern in her eyes, mere remnants of the compassion she used to have for him, he recognized that now, and he prayed she wouldn't misunderstand him.

With two steaming cups before them, his shaky hands bringing one repeatedly to his lips to take quick, nervous sips, she was patient with him, letting him collect his thoughts and figure out how he wanted to go about this.

"Okay. This is all going to take some explaining, I'm sure, but I need you to trust me on this. Rae?" he looked up at her, eyes wide and well awake.

She nodded, egging him on gently. "I trust you. I do."

He took a deep breath. "I'll start from the beginning, then. Like I told you before, Love is _the_ oldest, strongest, _purest_ magic out there. It can… consume you whole and you'll never even know it. You say you've never fallen in love, but you've had your heart broken, right? But the thing is, you can't have the latter without the former. So, one is to assume that you _have_ fallen in love, which isn't all that impossible. Sometimes, if the heartbreak is bad enough, you'll… forget what caused it. It's your way of trying to feel better, but it doesn't always work. I think that's what you're feeling now."

She nodded slowly. "Okay… that makes sense. So I loved someone?"

"Not loved. Not past tense. You still do, I think. That's _why_ did didn't work." His hands fidgeted incessantly on the table and he swallowed hard. "You met me… some time ago, at a bus stop, and we spent some of the night together. I came back a few months later and I took you here, I showed you around and you… Things went wrong, for me, and you made everything right. I took you home, then and we said we'd keep in touch, but… things didn't work out. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Rae blinked slowly, staring into her cup and shook her head.

Tracy set his cup down, shaking. "It's usually not this bad, you know. It happens to everyone who has their heart broken. Or else how would they move on? But you… you're special, because of all the magic involved here. You didn't just fall in love with _anyone_. You… you fell in love with a fairy," he said quietly.

"With you." The words came from her lips in a very matter-of-fact manner, inquisitive and not harsh or judgmental.

He sighed and nodded. "Now, I can make everything better again. I can, but it's going to be difficult at first, for you. For both of us, really. Again… I need you to trust me."

Rae didn't answer for a moment, still trying to understand how she felt about the story he'd just given her. Some part of her screamed that she wouldn't have forgotten being in love, but another part of her, mere hours ago, had been so convinced that fairies were nothing but the stuff of children's stories.

Tracy got up and rounded the table to be next to her, pulling her from her seat so that they stood together. She placed one hand on the rim of the table and left the other limp at her side as he reached up and pushed her hair back, cupping her face in both hands and lifting her chin slightly.

Before he could second guess his plan or she could start to feel awkward in his grip, he bent his head, held his breath and planted his mouth against hers. She gave a muffled cry and broke his hold on her, staggering back and nearly knocking her chair over in the process, looking up at him in shock. He felt the heat rising quickly, burning his neck and cheeks and turning them a deep red.

"What-?" she gasped, wide eyes and he could _see_ her understanding. Her mouth fell slack and her expression softened, tears welling up in her eyes. He reached out, trying to calm her, but she shook her head, sitting down and shaking.

He moved closer to her, slowly and unsure. "Rae…" he placed a hand on her shoulder, wanting to make sure she was okay with contact. When she didn't flinch, he embraced her. "I'm sorry, Rae." He said softly. "I didn't mean to…"

She buried her face in her hands and let out a muffled sob. He couldn't imagine what this was like for her, to suddenly be faced with the fact that she'd been hurt by someone she loved, someone she'd trusted. He held her tighter and didn't let go, the knot of uncertainty in his chest tightening as well. Things would not go well for them, there was no arguing that. She was broken, still, but this was only the first step to fixing her.

Tracy gasped as she stood, shaking him off, muttering an apology and running off, leaving him in the Break Room to worry over the night's events.

Contrary to what many humans believed, a True Love's Kiss only woke; it did not make things better.

He felt like going after her would only be counter productive. She needed time to collect herself and, obviously, that meant without him. He sat back down, in the seat that she had just vacated, and folded his arms on the table, putting his head down. This was one hell of a case.

Rae stood in the magic-chilled room, the light of the swirling mass casting shadows and highlights across her face as she stared down into its depths. Her body shook and she felt as if her knees would give out beneath her. She supported herself against the railing and sniffled, remembering, now, the promise she'd made Tracy nearly three years ago. She was sick at the thought of how thoroughly she'd broken that promise, and she tried to figure out how to fix the mistakes she'd made since those lonely nights laying awake, waiting for him when he'd never come for her.

Now that she remembered, things fell into place. She understood why she'd felt the way she had, she understood why things had happened when they did, and she understood what had gone wrong.

It was the nights that she spent waiting for him that did it, that weakened her resolve, her faith, and made her vulnerable to ugly heartbreak. She'd convinced herself that he'd forgotten about her, that he wasn't coming back, when in reality it had all been a misunderstanding between them. He hadn't meant to hurt her, she knew that. He'd told her that he would never hurt her, that she would never have to be afraid, but she _was_.

Rae sniffled and wiped the tears from her cheek before they could plummet into the abyss and cause another reaction in the vat.

She wasn't afraid of him, anymore. She wasn't afraid of FairyLand. Those fears had been brought on by the memories that she couldn't access, the shroud that had been draped over her mind by magic. Those fears were because of what had happened three years ago. _This_ fear was new. This was a fear of what was to come.

She wasn't mad at him. How could she be?

She loved him.

She remained in the power plant, sniffling and folded in on herself for some time. Other fairies passed by, not wanting to bother her. On any normal circumstance, she was sure they would have kicked her out, told her that she wasn't supposed to be in the room, but she was clearly a mess, and they didn't need to add insult to injury. One stayed for a moment or two, offering her condolences and a small box of tissues, which Rae accepted gratefully, sitting with her back against the rail and wiping stray tears away in the dim, colorful light of the room.

She dreaded going back out there to face Tracy, but at the same time she just wanted him to hold her, to make her feel better as he inevitably did, and she was forced to make the decision of which one she wanted more. She _could_ hole herself up in this room until Lily decided to send her home without any further interaction from _any_ fairies. Rae didn't know if that was the better choice. Would that make her feel better, to go home and never look back, to never have to wonder about fairies or magic ever again? Or would it put her right back into that unbearable fog?

On the other side of that coin, there was that intense longing, the loneliness that she now felt, tenfold from what it was before.

After some time, she gathered herself and exited the power plant, leaving the electric chill of magic behind and emerging into the main lobby.

The place was swarming with fairies, going about their business. She felt as if she blended into the sea of tutus and silk, but _he_ stood out, taller than the rest and able to be spotted easily. She almost shrunk back, not wanting to be seen right away, but the sea of fairies parted, almost on cue, and he looked right at her.

Tracy had looked up to the sound of the doors swinging shut. Rae stood on the other side of the room, obscured by the mass amounts of other fairies. He could see, even from this distance, that her cheeks were tearstained, eyes behind her glasses wide and watery. But when she spotted him, she smiled. It wasn't an overly excited smile – he imagined that he was the last person she'd be excited to see at the moment – but just a little one, to let him know she was okay. He stood in the middle of the lobby and looked directly at her, nodding, his head tilted slightly to one side. It wasn't a confirmation of her smile, but more of a question. _Are you sure_?

She took a long, trembling breath and nodded in response. An affirmation. She'd taken time to herself to sort out her feelings and come to terms with what had happened.

She _was_ better now, and she was more than ready to face him, because more than anything, she just wanted to be held. She wasn't sad or lonely or angry anymore, but there was still that gnawing uncertainty in her chest.

Where do they go from here? he wondered as they moved towards each other through the droves of fairies.

Well.

He supposed they would figure that out now, didn't he?

They came closer and didn't stop until she was in his arms – it was rather startling for both of them, that they would connect so immediately, but it was a good sign. It meant that things were okay, or at least better. Neither was so hurt as to spurn the other, and the way that she wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her face in his chest, the way the he ducked his head and held her close, was more than enough reconciliation between them.

They stood there, in the main lobby with dozens of fairies swarming around them, and she backed up, looking up at him and she smiled. Her eyes were still watery from the night's events, but it was a genuine smile, and it was returned in earnest.

Things were going to be okay.

Rae pushed herself up, heels lifting off of the ground and leaning against him for support, slinging her arms over his shoulders, around his neck in a sort of embrace, and he bowed his head, bringing them nose-to-nose. They closed their eyes against one another and he hummed in gentle approval, the noise vibrating between them, from his chest to hers. He wrapped his arms around her middle, holding her to him as smiles spread across their lips.

"I'm glad you're okay." He muttered. "Really, I am, and I'm _so_ sorry."

It was a quick action, an idea that had flit through her mind and she acted without thinking. The moment the idea presented itself to her, it seemed brilliant, a reciprocation of his actions earlier, and she tilted her head back, chin up, bringing her mouth to his. His eyes flew open at the unexpected contact, but he didn't break away. He let her remain there, with her lips pressed gently against his. Somewhere in the back of his mind, past the shock of the moment, was a rising warmth that came from his deepest core, banishing any uncertainty he had about this kiss, and he realized how good it felt, to have someone care about him so thoroughly, to really _love_ him, without looking upon him with pity or prejudice because of who he was. He realized how good it felt to have her back.

He tilted his head, leaning into her and smiling against her mouth, moving one hand to support the back of her head and the other to the small of her back, pulling her in closer.

He liked this, and as the heat spread through his body and he leaned into her, he understood that there was _nothing_ to be worried about, now that she was herself again, because Rae, _this_ Rae, the one who cared for him and loved him, was the girl that _he_ loved. And he swore, in that kiss, that he'd never let her forget that, ever again.


	4. Home

The last few days had been wonderful, magical in every sense of the word as she served out her sentence in FairyLand, recovering from the years of magic that had ravaged her mind. It had been a recuperative process, with special-ops fairies dispatched to clean up the mess left behind.

Despite the discovery of what had happened to her, between her and Tracy and despite having him there now, there were still pangs of loneliness, the crippling sadness and the utter fear, when he left her alone in a room, that she would never see him again. The magic shrouded over her mind was like a disease, mostly dispelled now but no where near gone. He rarely left her side, as it was. Lily had granted him time off from work to remain with her; that was what would help her recover, they all knew, was being constantly reassured that he was there, that he wasn't going to suddenly disappear from her life like he had last time. They passed the nights together, though unable to leave Fairy's emergency ward – it was relatively empty. No one stayed long term when they _did_ show up, and Rae and Tracy had their privacy.

She tried to convince herself that she would be okay to pass the nights alone, she tried to convince _him_ that he didn't have to stay with her constantly, she was sure he was getting tired of being cooped up in the ward, but he would have none of it. He could see it in her, he knew she needed him there and what price was remaining in one room for a week, when its rewards reaped were having Rae get better?

She was visited regularly by the nurse, who administered her herbs she'd never heard of and took records of things that hardly mattered. Tracy had explained to her that Fairy medicine was much different from human medicine for the simple fact that magic illnesses, such as the magic that had taken her, was untreatable by human ways.

"See, it doesn't have any outward signs," he told her, "Like a fever, you get hot and flushed, that won't happen. There're subtle clues, though, that can be overlooked as normal behavior unless you know what to look for." He nodded to her hands, clasped tightly in her lap and wringing incessantly. "Like that. See? You're nervous. You don't even realize it, do you?" he asked, holding her close.

His contact calmed her. "Please don't go." She choked, leaning against him. He chuckled faintly and smiled, telling her that he wasn't going anywhere. "Good. Can we just… stay like this forever?" she asked, smiling gently.

He hummed, the sound dissolving into a "Well…" Rae sat up straight and looked at him, eyed wide. "You know… you know you can't stay here. Once you're better, once your week is up, those wings will disappear, and then…"

"I have to go home," she whispered, in shock. Still, a small part of her had expected this, the dream to end. She twisted her fingers together without realizing she was fidgeting again, a nervous habit she'd built in the last three years. She shook her head. "I don't want to," she said quietly. "I don't want to forget again. I don't want to go back to – to-"

He took her hands, stopping the fidgeting before he pulled her in, cradling her against him and rocking her gently back and forth. "No." he said, simply. "You won't. Because I love you, and I'm going to make sure it doesn't happen ever again, my Honeybee."

Rae gasped, a barely audible noise that made him smile.

"Wh-what? I showed you that song… three…" she trailed off and looked up at him to see the broad smile spread across his face. Gradually, her surprised melted and a similar smile crept onto her lips as she tiled her head to rest on his shoulder.

After five days of being in the ward, she was allowed to wander around Fairy with Tracy as her guide to keep her out of trouble. Despite her extensive experience and exposure to fairies, she was still human and hardly trusted alone in the building. A small part of her was grateful for their caution, as it meant that Tracy remained with her.

They didn't have to ask twice. When he had told Rae that love works in mysterious ways, he had meant it. He'd known the girl for three years – granted, he wasn't around for most of that time, but he'd still known her, had her in his thoughts and memories – and he knew he'd cared about her, but it wasn't until he'd seen her so broken and hurt that he realized _how much_. Tracy loved her, more than he'd loved anyone of his own, more than he'd loved any _fairy_, and that's what scared him the most. There were stories about magical beings that fell in love with humans. They were terrible stories that almost always ended in heartbreak, and he would never wish that upon anyone, especially her. But they'd conquered that hurdle once, they knew better now and he swore to himself – and her – that they would make this work. He happily stayed by her side, caught in the same illusion that she was, at least for the moment. As long as they were together in FairyLand, nothing could go wrong. He dreaded the day that she'd have to go home, and he knew she did too. But he merely smiled and reassured her, because it was so important that she believe they were going to be okay.

They had a week at most, enough time, the nurse thought, for her to recover enough to go home. But now, just the thought of doing so made her want to cry. She loved being with him. She was _tired_ of feeling sad and lonely and angry all the time, and he made her feel _better_. She didn't want to leave, but even she knew that there would soon - _very soon_ – come a time where they'd have to part again, even if it wasn't permanent, as she'd thought the last time they'd taken to their respective worlds.

But for now, the days passed, and they passed them together.

It was that day, Tracy knew. He wasn't sure if she did or not, but she seemed indifferent for the majority of the day. At present, he sat across from her, and they chatted easily with one another in the bright sunlit break room. The same two-seated table that he'd had her sit at when he'd brought her back from the garden. A part of him was uncertain if it was a good idea to bring her back into the break room, but he knew that she shared the same memories of this room, the cat nap on the couch and settling themselves after one of the most shocking days either of them had ever had. Maybe, even, somewhere in her mind, she cherished the memory of that first kiss as well, however preformed out of necessity it may have been, and maybe she was more okay with the room than he thought. She certainly seemed it, laughing with him and smiling broadly, his hand placed over hers as they discussed where they were going to go from there.

Between his erratic work schedule and her schooling, camp in the summer, it was difficult coming up with a workable time and place where they could meet, but he promised her, over and over, whenever they hit a snag in their planning, that he would not leave her like he had last time. He leaned over the table to brush the hair from her eyes, but stopped, hand extended and stopping just above her ear. She reached up and grabbed his hand, looking concerned for the worried expression that his features had warped themselves into. "What?" she asked, voice hushed.

He swallowed hard and his eyes flickered to hers, gaze having been locked on something over her shoulder. "Are you going to be allright?" he asked.

She frowned. "What do you… what?" she huffed, a familiar anxiety rising in her chest. The way he was acting unsettled her.

"Rae…" he started, pulling his hand from hers and completing the motion of pushing her hair back. "Your wings."

Rae gasped, craning her neck and peering over her shoulder at the violet gossamer on her back. They were rippling, fading in and out like a mirage and unable to keep stable for more than a few seconds before rippling again.

He guided her gaze back to him. "Rae," he said, his voice calm and gentle. He didn't want her to be alarmed, there was nothing to worry about. "Ready to go home?"

She grabbed his hand and pressed her lips together, shaking her head. "Not yet, please." She whispered.

Tracy didn't remove himself from her grip, but watched as her wings – unnatural, a work of magic – ripples and tried to reform, splaying into dusty magic once before disintegrating all together, the spell's energy spent and fading. Her clothes began to change; the silk tutu she wore fell away in the pink dust of magic, revealing a pair of cotton pajama pants and a white tank top. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply as he helped her up, her fingers trembling, itching to fidget, but she repressed the urge and clung tightly to him instead. He moved closer, wrapping his arms around her and holding her to him as the magic swirled around them, the deafening roar of wind and the sting of raw magic, like sand flying against the bare skin. He sheltered and comforted her, and her trembling died down with the wind when they stood in her bedroom.

All was still, almost irregularly so, eerie in its atmosphere, though her could hear clatter downstairs.

Almost as if waking from a dream, Rae gasped. "Mom and dad," she breathed. "What are they going to think? I've been gone for a – for a week, how am I going to-"

He hushed her, easing her onto her bed and sitting next to her. "We've taken care of that, too. Special operation fairies came in here this morning. Right now your mam and dad think you're up here asleep, sick."

She swallowed and let out a shaky breath. "I might be." She admitted, wearily.

"Oh," he hushed her. "Now, you know… I don't have to be back to work until tomorrow. Lily's been very understanding about this whole ordeal. I think she's pleased with you" He kissed the top of her head, and she leaned into him. "It's not often we get a human your age who believes, or even so much as _cares_ for that matter.

"Please stay." She implored.

"I'd love to."

Tracy pushed her away, palm braced against her shoulder, and laid her down, watching her stretch her legs out across the length of the bed, and he followed, lying next to her, her cheek at his shoulder and his arm around her, holding her firm.

Rae had never been so happy before, so content to just lie there and be held. His arms around her was a comfort that she knew would never grow old, as she snuggled into his chest. One hand stroked mindlessly at her hair. A deep hum emanated from his throat, resonating through the both of them.

He would make a practice of this, laying with her, lulling her to sleep and following soon after, himself. It was such a nice change from the high-energy atmosphere of FairyLand, to be able to lie down and sleep without any false energy coursing through his veins, to be able to fall asleep next to Rae.

His voice came out shakily at first, bogged down by a welcomed fatigue, as he stroked her hair. "Set me free, my… honey-bee… hon-ey…bee…" he crooned, closing his eyes.

Together, as always, they drifted off to sleep – the first proper sleep Tracy had in weeks – cozy and pressed up against one another.

She woke up, took a deep breath and opened her eyes. He was lying in front of her, face mere inches away, glasses askew and slipping down the bridge of his nose. She smiled and reached up to gently ease them off. Slowly, as to not wake him, and she placed them on the space of pillow above her head, then nuzzled into the crook of his neck, content to lay there with him until he awoke. She knew he was exhausted. He'd told her about the adrenaline effects of magic, how sometimes he didn't sleep for a month or more, and she was more than happy to let him sleep – so long as she was with him, she was happy.

Eventually, though, he began stirring, pawing at his face irritably as he came to before opening his eyes halfway, smiling down at her and pulling her closer to him, sighing happily and she giggled. "Waking up to you," he mumbled sleepily, resting his chin atop her head. "I like that."

They lay there for a moment, concentrating on nothing but each other, before Rae sat up abruptly, Tracy following.

His hand blanketed hers as he asked her what was wrong.

"Nothing," she said, honestly. "Nothing is." And a wide grin erupted onto her features.

It took Tracy a moment to understand, but it clicked when she stood from the bed and opened the door a crack to peer out into the hallway. _She'd fallen asleep._ Despite having been in his arms the entire time, she'd been unconscious, vulnerable, and able to be left there on a whim and not even know it. This was the first sleep that she passed where, upon waking, she hadn't cried out for him. This was the turnaround.

He smiled sadly and stood from the bed, stretching his legs and walking over to her, pushing the door shut gently and resting his weight against it as he bent over, one hand cupping her cheek, and he kissed her, lingering for a moment afterwards with his mouth now at her ear. "I'm going to go back to Fairy," he stated, and she took a deep, steady breath. This would be the first time they were separated in a week. "And you're going to be just fine." He stood and hooked a finger under her chin, lifting her face. "I love you. Don't forget that, this time." He said, and she threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around her neck as best she could given the height difference, and for a moment he was frightened. He didn't want her to be upset, not now, after they were doing so well.

But when she backed away, and he could see the grin, the unease in his chest dissolved immediately and he smiled back. "I never will," she promised. "I love you too," she said as he stepped away from her, allowing room for the jump.

"I'll remember that," he said, before stepping to the side and fading from The Human Plane.

She stood there, stock still and staring blankly at the spot he'd last stood, checking herself and playing his words over and over in her head. She smiled slowly and turned from her bedroom to the hall, out to the overlook to happily greet her parents in the kitchen below.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" her mother asked, looking up to see her daughter half leaning over the banister in her pajamas.

"No idea," she lied quickly. "Just am."

"Well, it's nice to see you so cheery."

Rae all but threw her head back and laughed.


	5. Insecurity

End of July, beginning of August, was the hottest part of the year. The student apartments were the victims of the heat, as of late. The sun beat down on them relentlessly and eventually, just opening a window didn't suffice. Rae came home with a fan one day, that they set at the door and let run for hours on end. Still, some nights even the fan wasn't enough. It ended up reaching ninety seven degrees in the room as they lay there, and Rae stood from the bed and hooked her thumbs into the elastic band of her pajama shorts, sighing heavily and pulling them down before returning to bed. Tracy had laid there, stunned for a moment as she crawled back in bed in nothing more than a tank top and cotton panties; after a moment, he laughed.

It quickly became a habit for them, on the nights were the heat became unbearable fully clothed – they were comfortable with one another, and to them, what was a little innocent lack of clothes when they'd lived together for almost a year? Still, there was usually a line they both knew not to cross. Rae would forgo traditional pajamas, even without the bottoms, in favor of a cotton tank top, something light and breathable in the heat. In the same respect, Tracy also kept a top. Granted, his were usually rather heavy, and made of a dark material. Still, it provided him with enough air to not die of heat exhaustion in the middle of the night, he reassured her. Of course he told her it was just more _comfortable_, the same way that no matter how hot it got in the apartment, she would always keep that little bit of blanket over her legs. But he had his reasons.

Tracy came into the apartment around noon, having been at work since sic last night. Now that he was back on The Human Plane, the adrenaline rush of magic that had kept him awake was gone, and he was exhausted. Just because fairies didn't share the same sleep patterns as humans didn't mean they didn't need the same amount of sleep, outside of their magically charged environment. It must have been about ninety degreed in the room, and he groaned as he dropped down on the couch, unbuttoning his shit. Rae wasn't home – she was still in classes, and she wouldn't be home until four. He peeled the fabric from his skin, a difficult task because of the sweat saturated into the shirt. He didn't understand: Arizona was hotter than _any_ place in Fairy Land, and _his_ home had twice as many suns! He groaned into a pillow, laying on his stomach and closing his eyes. He'd take a quick nap and wake up before Rae got home, make dinner…

He exhaled deeply, slipping into unconsciousness.

* * *

The door opened and Rae walked in, setting her rucksack near the door and the large paper bag of Chinese food on the counter. She smiles, spying Tracy passed out on the couch. She'd called him earlier, to no answer, and now she understood. Poor thing. She knelt by his side, kneading the base of her palm into his shoulder. "Trace," she whispered as he stirred. Something caught her eye, a line of fluff on his back. She looked over, seeing a line of soft cream-colored downy fluff running from the inner top of each shoulder blade to the base of his spine, by the small of his back. She ran her finger curiously over it, smoothing it down and watching as it sprang back to attention the moment her fingers passed it.

He mumbled a protest as he woke up. The _moment_ he came to his senses, his eyes flew open as he realized that Rae was home, that not only did he have his shirt off, but she was there, she was running her hands over his back, stroking the fluff on his back, actively acknowledging it, and he cried out, swinging his arm back and swatting her away before he sat up, grabbing his shirt from the floor and hastily redressing himself, knees pressed together and cheeks turning a feverish pink.

Rae was startled, sitting back and waiting for him to come to a rest. "M'sorry, just... I – don't." he stuttered. "Please, don't."

She stared blankly at him, unsure of what had just happened. He was all but begging her, wide-eyed and jittery, and so obviously uncomfortable. "Yeah." She said, softly. "Yeah, okay. I… I brought dinner. Hungry?"

He was, actually, and despite his discomfort, he took a carton of lo mien, sitting with her and eating.

Rae watched him carefully as they ate, eyes turned down and the pink tinge never leaving his cheeks; she tried talking to him, but he didn't seem too interested in conversation, only offering the occasional 'yes' or 'no' and the appropriately timed grunt that told her he was listening. She knew better – she knew _him_. He wasn't listening. His ability to make noncommittal responses at the perfect time had been perfected over his decades of being a caseworker fairy, of having to endure the concerns and complaints of his charges. "Tracy," she said, not breaking her speech patters. He didn't look up, and she frowned, taking the carton from his hands and calling his name again. _This_ time, he looked up, unsure of what she was doing and suddenly regretting that he hadn't been paying attention.

"Wot?"

She just looked at him for a moment, turned and set both of their cartons aside. "What was that?" she asked. "I have never seen you freak out like that, not with me. Do you want to explain?"

She knew that he didn't _want_ to explain, he thought dismally, but she was going to _make_ him, he was sure. He sighed and wiped absently at his face. "I just… it's personal, isn't it?" he asked. "I mean, I don't go around pawing at _your_ body when you sleep, do I?" he snapped, looking away. He felt her hand on his knee, and he immediately felt bad for his feigned temper. Of _course_ he wasn't angry with her. But any excuse, any wat all, was a better option than explaining about the downy feather on his back. His hand covered hers. "I… well, I'm a wingless fairy. I never grew wings and… see, we didn't know I was going to be wingless until I was 'bout ten because _all_ fairies have… this." He gestured to his back. "We all grow down, but not necessarily… wings." He said, gently. "The uhm… the down. It's the color the wings would have been. It…it _is_ what would have been." Rae could hear the change in his tone, from anger to resignation to remorse. "I just don't… _like_ it. M'sorry, honeybee. I didn't mean to…" he stopped.

Rae was familiar with body insecurity. How many people in the world were uncomfortable about how part of their body _looked_, or how it functioned? It wasn't an uncommon phenomena, among humans, at lease. She wasn't sure how common this type of insecurity was among fairies but, when you think about it, that didn't truly matter. What mattered was that _he_ was uncomfortable with it. She nodded, telling him that she understood, and he gave her hand a quick squeeze.

* * *

When they finished dinner, it was quick cleanup – tossing the empty carton in the waste bin and placing their cups in the dishwasher. Rae's mind had been reeling through the rest of the meal, while Tracy's thought calmed.

Blue-orange light streamed into the bedroom as she led him in by the hand, closing the door behind her and standing chest-to-chest with him – or at least as close as they could get to chest-to-chest, what with the foot or so height difference between them. He ducked his head as she placed both her hands on either side of his face and kissed him full on the mouth, her lips curved into a smile.

He pulled her backwards, onto the bed and she followed, never breaking the kiss. They often spent the nights like this, comfortable in each other's company. But now, _tonight_, she had other plans. They lay together, nose to nose and foreheads pressed together and she told him how much she loved him. She told him that she loved everything about him, that she just wanted him to be happy. The hour passed and she could see that the pink tinge had left his cheeks, and she lifted her chin, bringing her mouth to his and she could feel him kiss her back, moving against her lips, his arms around her – one at the small of her back and the other entwined in her hair, at the base of her skull. She ran her hands over his chest, groping for his collar.

She was grateful for his attire – not only because of how dapper he looked in his work suit or even the simple button-up he wore now, but because, otherwise, removing his shirt would have been almost impossible. Her fingers fumbled at the first button. He made a choked noise of surprise as he moved _his_ hands to hers, pushing her away and pulling back, breaking the kiss. "What're you…?" he looked down and saw the mild look of shock on her face, which softened immediately. Her fingers brushed his neck. "Trust me?" she cooed. He looked down at her, expression mightily confused, but he didn't resist when she pulled him back down, resuming her work on his collar. She could feel his nervousness in the kiss, pushing harder against her mouth, his breath hitching and hiccupping so close to her. With each button she undid, his hands itched to grab hers, to keep her still but she wanted him to trust her. She wanted him to let her do whatever she was doing to him. When the last button at his belt was undone, she had him shed the white collar shirt for the second time that day. He shivered against her, uncomfortable with his back bared, when she moved her hands back to his face, hesitating for a moment before pulling back.

She smiled at him, pushing herself further up the mound of pillows at the top of the bed, so that her shoulders were above his, sitting further up, pulling him towards her so that he way laying with his cheek against the cushion of her bust. It wasn't unlike the way she would lie against him in the night, comfortable and close as he rubbed a hand against her back, much like she was doing now, to him. He gave a groan when he felt her fingers on him. "Rae, please, I don't want-" He started but she merely hushed him, moving her hand up to rub at his shoulder and tracing her fingers along his spine, feeling each separation of bone before she came to a stop at the small of his back, where the down came to a point, tracing the tiny feathers back to the top of his shoulder blades to begin the cycle over again. He wrapped his arms around her stomach and held her.

"Trace," she whispered, resting her chin against the top of his head. "I love you. _All_ of you, and I don't ever, _ever_ want you to feel like you have to… _hide_ anything." She said, kissing the crown of his head, still running her fingers over the smooth skin of his back. "You told me you were a _fairy_ and I still loved you. I always will. This?" she said, flattening her palm on his back, letting him know that she meant not only his wing-down, but his insecurity as well, his unwillingness to be completely open with her because of the way his society was built. She was concerned for him, she always was, because she'd _seen_ him at his worst, the bitter, rainy night he spent venting to a stranger in a church, miserable and willing to remain in a foreign realm just to avoid humiliation and ridicule. She'd _seen_ what prejudice and insecurity did to him, and she never wanted that for him. She _certainly_ didn't want him to have to feel that way around her.

The man shifted, pulling his knees up beneath hers, and his muscles relaxed. He focused on the feeling of her fingers instead of the thought of what she was doing; it was less troubling that way, and through this new frame of mind, he found she rather enjoyed it. There was a tactile difference between his bare skin and the more sensitive down feathers lining his spine. He hummed in a gentle approval, pressing the crest of his cheek against her collarbone.

As he lay against her, their breathing evened out, comfortable against one another and beginning to fall asleep for the night, he found that, in all honesty, the night could have been worse.

In fact, it had been pretty good.


	6. Snapped

They noticed a change in him. The cheeriness in his voice, the improved mood, and the indifference to the odd insult. Some noticed how well he handled the mix-up that ended up cutting his hours. How he changed his schedule, taking the less desirable shift. It was all very off behaviour for Tracy, and the other fairies noticed. Some became wary that the years of overworking himself and the weight of his winglessness on his mind had finally taken their toll on him, that perhaps he'd finally snapped. Other, wiser fairies saw the signs and smiled quietly to themselves when they saw the man. They knew he hadn't snapped, though perhaps he wasn't completely in control of his mental facilities.

Tracy, they knew, was in love.

All in all, perhaps others regarded this with more shock than they would have learning that he'd lost it. Nearly 4oo years, and in such a long time, all of his classmates and colleagues had partnered off. A wedding here, an engagement there. Children. Meanwhile Tracy had kept to himself, to his office and his work. For him to so suddenly be in love, after so long, came as a shock. They made a sort of a game around the workplace, trying to figure out who it was that he was so obviously infatuated with. Was it Barbara from Accounting? No, she was with Robert. Was it Mary-Ellen? No, she hated him. Perhaps it was someone outside the workplace? It seemed plausible. His team mates had noticed that he didn't take the overtime he usually did, preferring to go home regularly, taking leave just when the sun began to set on the west coast of America on The Human Plane.

Some fairies were brazen enough to try to pry the answer out of him. Some would even ask who the special lady was. His reply would be a simple shrug of the shoulders and a smile. "You don't know her." he'd say, and stalk off back to his office. It infuriated them. They wanted to know who The Wingless Wonder had managed to find. It was one big puzzle to them. A part of them didn't truly believe that he had someone, but his happiness was too tangent for it to be a façade. You could literally feel the air around him crackle with the magic that only being in love could produce.

And yet, the mystery girl remained just that - a mystery. He never met her in the break room. She never visited him in the office. She never even called, nor did he call her, at least not during the work day. It baffled them, who wanted to know so badly who the woman could possibly be.

And yet he would not tell. It was a terrible game of cat and mouse for months. Every step forward they made, every time they thought that they had uncovered a possibility, their hopes were quickly dashed. Finding out was an accident. He'd taken leave on night, along with a group of other Fairies who had planned to go out for dinner. Marina happened to be among them, an the group gave a collective moan when she asked him if he wanted to join them. It was unclear whether or not Marina liked Tracy. She acted kindly to him, but seemed to be on a very short temper with him as well. He tried his best not to upset her, but sometimes, with his antics, it was inevitable.

But he'd politely refused, telling her that he'd promise the missus he's be home early that night. Their ears perked up immediately, and they took a sudden interest in the conversation that their friend was engaged in. Victoria was among them, a fairy well known for her exceptional stealth magic, and when Tracy had bit everyone a good night and made off to go home, she took a deep breath and followed him. He didn't go far - just past the bridge that connected Fairy's campus to the outer city - before he plucked his wand from his belt. She' frowned and leaned in to get a better look, hopeful to be caught in his magic field, taken along to wherever he was going.

Violet, pink and yellow swirled around them, colours that were already swathed in the deep purple of their surroundings, the ribbons of magic contracting to form a solid wall around them. There was a topsy-turvy sick feeling in Victoria's stomach, as she was swept away while still invisible (it was not recommended to travel this way) but after a staggering landing, she righted herself, not having lost any ability of her lungs. She remained safely out of Tracy's sight, silently taking in the shock of her surroundings. The grass was a sharp green contrast to the red brick that paved the roads, the large building that loomed in the distance, just past the gates that protected Tracy's entrance from the view of swarms of humans.

Her eyes went wide and she almost let out her breath, but merely made a small squeaking sound in the back of her throat and willed herself back to Fairy Land.

A Human.

The Wingless Wonder was in love with a human!

The rumours spread quickly. Even the wiser fairies became distressed at the notion. It was a most unusual love, they had to admit. Some scoffed at him when they saw him at work, much to his confusion, as if to say "You couldn't even find someone of your own species?"

The sudden cold shoulder dampened Tracy's happiness. He didn't know why, for quite some time. Not until the news reached Marina.

She's charged at him from across the lobby when she saw him, whistling some nonsense tune and carrying a stack of papers to Mab-knows-where. It didn't quite matter, as she drew her wand, holding it at shoulder's height, right at his chest. Marina was a higher-up. She's worked hard to get where she was, and was a talented Tooth Fairy. Tracy was still her subordinate, but they were friends, which is why he was rather alarmed to see her coming at him in a fury, wand-tip pointing right at his sternum. It attracted quite an audience as his papers went fluttering everywhere, his hands raised in surrender - of what, he did not know.

"Uhm… Good morning!" he greeted, hoping that this was just some odd way of her venting her frustrations. Marina was sweet, true, but every fairy in the complex knew that it was unwise to upset her. Tracy had, regrettably, done just that. "Might I ask," he began, rather nervously. "Why you're mad at me?"

She stared him down for a moment, wand arm rigid and her black hair almost as wild as her eyes. She swallowed thickly and tucked the device away, much to his relief.

She hit him. "Because you're an idiot!" she growled. "Are you mad? Do you even _know_ what you could do to us? Any idea at _all?"_

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what you're—"

"Listen, you've done a lot of stupid stuff in your life. That night on the field when we were younger, that human girl you brought to—"

There was dead silence. Realization dawned on her face and Tracy could hear a couple of chuckles from the crowd that had gathered around them. He felt the bottom of his stomach drop out as she spoke. "In love with a human… It's her, _isn't it?_"

The words were not kind words, and they stung him something terrible, right to the core. His jaw locked momentarily, biting the words back until he found a more suitable response. "Yes," he answered, solidly, properly. "It's her. Rae."

From the crowd her could hear someone whisper "Dream Killer."

He ignored the accusation. "And I do love her. You're acting like that's a bad thing."

She huffed in surprise at his response. "Tracy, she's human! How could you possibly think it's not? You know what they're like!" she looked around at the crowd, not having realized that she'd attracted so much attention. Marina grabbed him by the arm and dragged him from the lobby back to his office to continue to conversation there. The walk was short, but spent in complete silence between the two. She rounded on him once the door was shut, and found him leaning back against the desk, frowning down at her. His stature and usual benevolence made this a rather intimidating image.

"Now," he said, as the door closed, "Please explain to me why I can't love her."

She sighed. "That's not what I mean, Tracy, you know that." she snapped. Her voice softened. "It's _dangerous_. You know what humans are like."

"I know what Rae is like. I love her, Marina." he searched her face, his expression unyielding. She sighed. "Now you know as well as I do that there's nothing that will change that. You shouldn't try to change it. Love is magic. I love her."

She looked up at him, locking eyes. In the decades she'd known him, she'd learned that a sure-fire way to read him was to read his eyes. Wide and watery, there was the unmistakable look of determination in his eyes, the fire that was hadn't been present in centuries.

She sighed again. "You two are really in love?" she asked.

"Yes." came his answer, immediately. "She's staying in school until she graduates in a few years, and then I'm bringing her here, to live with me."

Marina was not pleased by these answers. Tracy obviously had no idea how much danger he was putting himself in, or anyone else. His girlfriend, the rest of Fairy Land. Things could go terribly wrong - they often did, with humans - and everyone could lose. But Marina also knew that Love was indeed magic. It was the strongest magic in existence, purer than anything they could ever extract from a tooth. And, above all, it _was not to be tampered with. _

She groaned inwardly. "Leave it to you, Tracy, to fall for a human." she muttered, unlocking the door. "You have to be careful. I know you're taking it lightly, but you need to understand that this is dangerous. You're setting yourself up for one glorious fall."

Tracy smiled sweetly at her as he made his way out of the office. "I've already fallen, Marina." he said gently.


	7. The Christmas Story

The atmosphere in the living room was heavy. Tracy shifted uncomfortably, knees pressed together and back rigid. He'd been dreading this for weeks, since Rae had gotten off the phone and told him he was joining her and her family for Christmas. It wasn't so much that he didn't want to be there - quit the contrary, he was happy to be with her. It was her family that set him on edge. It wasn't much of a secret that her father was less-than-pleased with him Tracy couldn't blame him, honestly. He was concerned for his daughter, and the fact that she was living with a fairy who was somewhere about twenty five times her age didn't help matters. Tracy knew that he was a topic of concern in her family, and perhaps that's why Rae brought him.

But despite her good intentions, he was still terribly nervous about the whole ordeal. Rae sat next to him, a hand rested gently on his knee, rubbing reassuringly as she talked to her family; he sat and listened, not wanting to be obtrusive. Rae moved her hand, pulling him back to rest against the cushion of the couch, before settling back against him. That was all it took, her weight against him, to calm his nerves. He unfolded himself, stretching his legs out to a more comfortable position and letting the tension in his shoulders relax. He let and arm snake around her middle, holding her close.

It was a nice reminder that he was meant to be enjoying himself. He'd shared his holidays with her - perhaps not in full, as they remained on The Human Plane - and this was her trying to introduce him to her culture. He appreciated it, and was always eager, but he couldn't help but feel like a fish out of water. Christmas was a religious holiday for the humans, that much he knew. But that was the extent of his knowledge, and he felt her family saw it clearly in him. Rae's mother was unhappy for it, and her siblings told their young children to leave him be, though he would have been more than happy to entertain the, - he loved kids. He was a Tooth Fairy, for Mab's sake! But again, he couldn't blame them. He would be patient with her family and hope against hope that they accepted him as a part of it, as a part of her.

For the meantime though, he smiled nervously and watched as a book was passed across the living room, ending with Rae. It was a gorgeous blue book with gold-trimmed leaves and engraving. She opened the book, seeing to know almost exactly which page to flip to, and readily explained. "This," she said, splaying a hand across the thin paper, "is The Christmas Story. We read it every year. This is why we celebrate Christmas, Trace."

He shifted slightly, trying to follow over her shoulder as she read aloud. It was, admittedly, rather difficult to follow. Names of ancient cities and titles of lineage threw him off more than once, though he supposed all that had been cleared up and familiarized earlier in the book, as she was indeed quite far in. He supposed this book, their Bible, was most closely akin to the Fairy "Atros qi Clour Mab." Of course, the Atros qu Clour Mab didn't detail such fantastic miracles or the appearance of angels. In that respect, he was quite enamored with the story.

One would hardly say that fairies were primitive, but they still cherished their old creation myths. To Tracy, the beliefs held by the humans were endlessly fascinating, beautiful stories of creation.

"When Joseph and Mary had done everything required by the Law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee to their own town of Nazareth. And the child grew and became strong; he was filled with wisdom, and the grace of God was upon him." Rae spoke the last line with a tone of finality born of a storyteller, and a hush fell over the living room.

"Trace," she said at long last, leaning further back and smiling up at him; he returned her smile, moving his free hand to brush her hair back. "I'm going to go start setting the table for dinner."

"Allright, luv." he said, pecking her on the cheek.

A beat passed; Rae didn't move.

"Trace?"

"Hmm?"

"I need to get up to do that. Let go?" She taped his hand, which was still held against the curve of her stomach. He jerked, releasing her and she stood, handing the book back to her mother and ruffling his hair as she passed into the kitchen.

The sound of clinking glass and silverware drifted from the kitchen like music, filling the heavy silence that had fallen over the living room. Tracy swallowed hard and readjusted himself, sitting straight up again.

"So!" Rae's father started suddenly, dispelling even the fine noises of the kitchen. "Tracy! You've got a solid job, a place in…?"

"The Lily District." he were six living districts in Fairy Land: Lily, Opal, Phoenix, Moon, Water, and Suns. Of course, this was of little meaning to her father, but it was polite conversation all the same. As Tracy spoke, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest, little Zachary climbed up on the couch next to him. The boy was no more than five or six years old, by human standards. Rae watched as her nephew climbed Tracy like a living mountain. She laughed quietly from the kitchen; it was cute.

"Right…" her father agreed thoughtfully. "Any plans for the future?"

The fairy sighed heavily. "Everything's still rather up in the air at the moment, with Rae still in school, my work…"

"Yeah. Yeah, it can be… hectic, huh?"

Tracy gave a snort of laughter. "No doubt. But it's nice, you know. Get to be with her, it's worth it." He reached up and removed Zach's hands from over his face. "Enjoying our time together."

"And, uhm… how old did you say you were? Rae mentioned it once over the phone, but I never really caught it."

Any semblance of a comfortable conversation was dashed when Tracy heard this. To say that there was a disconnect between his age and hers would have been an understatement. He was about four hundred years older, given the difference between standards. Even on a level playing field, he was still nearly twice her age. Of course, to them, it had never mattered. For her parents, however, he had a dreading suspicion that it did. "Uhm… Well, 382, sir."

Still, despite the man's disdain for Tracy and his culture, he was far from ignorant. "Well then, I guess I did hear right the first time. So, that's what? 38, for us?"

"About." Tracy forced the word out.

Rae's father leaned back and seemed to scrutinize the fairy, looking him up and down. "That's quite some time." he said, to agreement. It was a long time. Point of the matter was that fairies did live for a long time, and he let her father know that. "What's it been like for the past few centuries?"

"Sorry?" He was suddenly unsure; The panic rose in his chest.

"What've you been doing for the last three hundred years?"

"Spent… most of my career as a caseworker. Department of Dissemination of Disbelief. Worked with people - humans, mostly, though my colleagues are… are fairies—"

"So Rae's not the first human you've met?"

Tracy laughed, a nervous, shaky noise. "By Mab, certainly not!"

"And you never formed… bonds, with any of the others?"

He felt the blood rush, flushing his ears, cheeks and neck. "No," he said solidly. "Not like Rae." suddenly it made sense, and he knew where the conversation was headed. Her father wasn't the least bit interested in any of what he had to say. He just wanted to know that his daughter was going to be safe. Though he was mildly embarrassed and no little amount of uncomfortable with being interrogated.

Her father seemed satisfied with that answer, and prodded on. "Ever been married?"

The fairy's eyes went wider, the flush deepening, and he was so grateful that Rae hadn't been in the room to hear. He coughed absently into the back of his hand and began to stutter.

"Tracy?" Rae called from the kitchen.

Oh, thank Mab.

The fairy laughed and stood, taking the young boy with him some seven feet into the air. Zach laughed and flailed wildly, nearly clipping Tracy in the ear. He turned around and bent over, depositing the boy back on the couch as he shrieked with laughter. "Coming luv!" he called, and excused himself.

He and his honeybee met n the kitchen. He caught her around the waist and held her from behind, whispering a low thanks into her ear as they spun around gently. She laughed as the family looked on from the living room.

"Rae," her sister called. The couple paused, and she looked back to see her sibling pointing up at the ceiling, lips puckered and a smile in her eyes. Rae's laughter was contagious, and had him smiling the instant the noise reached his ears.

"You know, Trace," she said. "There's this other tradition, most people have. We hand little bushels of mistletoe from the ceilings, and when two people walk beneath it…"

He studied her face for a moment, trying to figure out her puzzle, to come to the conclusion that she wanted him to. He watched the corners of her lips turn up and smiled back down at her. "I give up." he said, low. He had a bit of an idea what came next, and he turned her around so that they were facing one another.

From the living room, Zach sounded his disapproval with a loud, "Don't do it! Gross!"

Rae giggled and pulled him closer, until they were nose-to-nose. "They kiss." she finished.

Tracy chuckled lightly, a deep noise that resided in his chest, as he closed the tiny space between them, kissing her gently, deeply, and supporting her as the sunk into him. He loved her; he was so content to simply hold her, to be close to her, even under the scrutiny of her family, and when they broke, he held her, nuzzling his cheek against hers. "Merry Christmas, Honeybee," he said.


	8. A Modest Proposal

Rae was more than happy to return the book to the library. Her literature professor had let them chose a work to study for the last couple of weeks. She had chosen the wrong one, no doubt. Where the sentences weren't dry and choppy, they were long and winding and almost completely devoid of point. It had been a dry read and she was more than glad to be rid of it. She was using her lunch hour to return _this_ book and check out the next one she would need for her class. The thin hardback she held in her hands slid down the return shoot before she strode purposefully into the classics section.

Over the low-rising bookshelves, she spotted a familiar figure, and smiled mischievously as she rounded the shelf, sneaking up behind him. He was in his work suit, hunched over the computer in one of the small wooden chairs, his legs nearly at his chest. His knee bobbed up and down in a nervous manner and she hugged him from behind – he jumped, slamming a hand down on the keyboard to close the window. She shot back at his sudden, violent outburst, confused and frightened and he stood, looking frazzled for a moment before forcing himself to calm down, embracing her warmly.

She gave a nervous laugh at his antics, the shock subsiding quickly. "What're you doing here?" she asked.

"Just… using the internet, here. Fairy doesn't have access to a lot of the, ah, _special_ information you lot have. Just… doing some research is all. What's that?" he gestured to her book, a ditch effort to grab her attention from him.

"Ah, The Iliad." She nodded down at the book. "It's for school."

"Brilliant." He said absently. "This… this is your lunch hour, isn't it?" he asked, checking his own watch. She nodded. "Right. Well, have a good lunch then, careful getting back to campus, allright?" he looked at her, seeming to come out of his nervous stupor at this. She promised she would be. "Allright. I ought to be getting back to Fairy." He gave her a quick kiss. "I'll see you back at the apartment."

Rae watched as he hurried out of the library, out onto the patio reading area, and vanished.

She sighed, still rather confused. Still, they did make it work. Rae had started college and things became so much easier for them. Her tuition included boarding in an apartment complex for students. She was without a room mate, which meant that Tracy was free to come and go as he needed, without having to worry about who would be with her. He held his job and began living with her, flitting between FairyLand and The Human Plane as needed.

Rae's apartment was perfect for her college years. Close to the campus and in the city, private and she never had to worry about roommates. It was small, true, but more than enough for the two people who lived there. One spent the majority of her time at the university, and the other in another plane of existence.

It was lonely, sometimes, but they _made it work_. They spent as much time as they could together, Tracy switching shifts and taking work on the opposite hemisphere to be with her while she was home, able to spend the evening, nights and early morning with her.

They were happy together.

College itself was an interesting experience for Rae. It had its ups and downs, the dog days and the weeks that seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. With the experience came a familiar panic, one that she hadn't felt in years, the sudden, suffocating pressure of _what if?_ But he was always there for her, to calm her fears and uncertainties and over the years, they only became closer. It was an odd relationship, if they were to be honest. There was a certain stigma, in his world, for inter-species marriage. Fairies were very accepting when it came to love, they knew not to meddle or oppose, but that didn't change the fact that he was in love with a human.

Humans, by fairy standards, were untrustworthy and cruel. They took every chance to deceive and only had their own benefit in mind, and Rae understood fully why they would feel this way. Between Fairy-Human history from centuries ago and the Dream Killers that Fairy almost constantly processed, it wasn't hard to understand why humans had been stereotyped as monsters in their culture. Even Tracy was a bit weary of meeting new people on the human plane, being introduced to her friends and family, even despite his work with humans, knowing that they're all different.

Though, perhaps he was entirely justified for being a nervous mess at the thought of Rae's parents being told that he was a fairy. Rae had already met his parents – they had thought she was a wingless fairy as well, and Tracy had politely corrected them. She had been mildly embarrassed for the misconception, but they welcomed her warmly.

But how, he wondered, would her parents react to being told that she was with a fairy? Provided of course, that they believed it at all!

He stayed up with Rae for hours on end while he prattled away, talking over scenario after disastrous scenario and she merely listened, watching as he readied for bed. When he sat down, throwing the covers back, he looked at her, realizing that she hadn't said a thing the whole time. She merely smiled and flicked off the light, snuggling up to him as he lay down. "Do you want to know what I think?" she said, finally, and he held her, egging her on. "I think my family will love you almost as much as I do."

He laughed nervously. "I can only hope so." He said. "Do you think we… do we _have_ to tell them…?" he felt her go still beneath him and the knot of anxiety in his chest tightened. "Right away. Do we have to tell them right away? About me being a fairy. I mean, for God's sake they're your parents and I'm sure they just want what's best for you. Do you really think that I'd be part of that plan, if they knew?"

She lifted her chin and kissed him. "I do. I really do. _But_," she said. "if you don't want to tell them, we don't have to. Not yet. Eventually, though, we have to. You know that."

He sighed and told her that he did, holding her as they drifted off to sleep together.

* * *

They hadn't believed, at first. Tracy didn't blame them; no adult ever did, not until they were face to face with magic, and even then some didn't. Tracy had been patient with them, a disposition born of years as a caseworker, though he felt he could be sick at any moment sitting in front of them with Rae and explaining _why_ he didn't have wings, _where_ Fairy Land was, and that _yes_ he loved their daughter very much. In that instant, where her parents understood that she had fallen in love with a _fairy_, something inhuman, and that he loved her back, it felt suddenly suffocating in their apartment, an arm slung around her as they sat on the couch facing her parents. He had to excuse himself, exiting into the hallway of the apartment complex.

He could hear them through the door, just faintly, though he was able to make out some words. He couldn't be angry, they didn't know better. They were just concerned, as any parent should be when confronted by their daughter who was in love with someone of a different species. Particularly a species they had previously thought to be the stuff of fantasy.

He removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and the voices on the other side of the door calmed after a minute or so, Rae having talked her parents down from whatever fury he was sure they were in.

The door opened and he felt her hands on his arm, gentle. He looked up. "M'sorry," he said, his voice low.

She merely smiled up at him. "Will you come back in?" she tugged gently on his arm. He shoved the glasses back on and followed her into the apartment, shutting the door behind him and taking his seat by her.

"You allright son?" Rae's father asked, and Tracy apologized to her parents.

Rae laughed, cuddling up to him and whispered to him, "Imagine what it'll be like when our folks meet." And he blanched at the thought. Part of the reason why he got along so well with those who weren't willing to believe was because he was a wingless fairy, as was his mam – but his father _was_ winged, and Tracy wasn't sure how Rae's parents would handle that. "Try not to pass out," she pecked him on the cheek.

* * *

But that had been months ago, Rae thought as she returned to the apartment later that evening, after her classes had let out, to find him already home. It was a pleasant surprise, but she was worried all the same. He was acting awfully peculiar, and she was concerned for him. Work hadn't given him problems in so long, but it wasn't out of the question that his team had gained a young, bull-headed fairy with a wing bias. She knew there were plenty of those.

Before she had the chance to ask him, to make sure that everything was okay, he rushed her out of the apartment building, down to the local park just off of campus.

Tracy had never been this erratic before, and she became worried as they walked together, watching as he wrung his hands together, fidgeting with every step.

Whenever she asked him if he was okay, or brought up work, he'd assure her that he was fine and change the subject.

They ate dinner at a small bistro near the park grounds, a lovely, locally owned place that Rae often went to for lunch. She'd taken him there once, but he knew it was one of her favorite restaurants in the city.

Over the evening, his edgy demeanor seemed to disappear. She made a note to ask him again when he was himself, less jumpy and calm as he usually was, but for now it was a nice improvement. She hated seeing him nervous or jumpy when they were out in public – when he'd first started living with her on The Human Plane, he'd been quite weary of being out in public, for fear that somehow, someone would know. That fear had dissolved, replaced by a careful confidence that he looked positively human.

He tried to relax that night, he could see that he was worrying her, but just the thought of what he was doing was enough to put him on edge. What if it upset her? What if she said _no_? She'd told him over and over again how happy she was with him, what if she wanted to stay how they were now? What if doing this _distanced_ her?

By the end of the night, they crossed the bridge together, the lights from the city dancing crazily in the reflection of the moving water below them, only making him dizzier. "R-rae," he stammered, grabbing her arm and stopping her. She turned back to him, head tilted slightly, wide eyes on him. He grabbed her hands, heart thumping against his ribs. "I love you, Rae." He said sternly.

Her eyebrows arced. "I love you too," she said, surprised at the force of his words.

"N-no, I… Rae." He held her to him. "I love you _so_ much. More than I've ever loved anyone, more than I – You mean _so_ much to me, I – I don't know what I'd do without you."

She placed a sudden kiss on his mouth, silencing him. When she pulled back, she looked questioningly up into his face. "Tracy, please," she begged, keeping a hold on the front of his jacket. "What's gotten into you lately? What's wrong?"

"N-nothing's wrong, Honeybee," he muttered quietly, leaning his forehead against hers. "You know it's almost been six years since the Bus Stop," he said, and she could hear his voice cracking. "And for as long as I've been alive – and that's a long time, too – I don't think… No. I _know_ I've never met any one who… not after all this time. I mean there's no one… I wouldn't... ah, bugger. I ruined it, didn't I?" he asked, miserably, tilting his head back away from her.

Rae laughed. For a terrifying moment, he thought she was laughing at _him_. He sputtered indignantly as she giggled.

"Ruined _what_?" she asked kindly, beaming up at him.

He swallowed hard, plunging his hand into his pocket and withdrawing a small velvet box, fingers trembling. Over the pounding of his heart and the blood rushing in his ears, he could hear her whispered "Oh my God." Whether it was in disbelief or dismay he couldn't tell.

He grabbed her hand and looked her in the eye. "Will you marry me?" he asked, his voice coming out much more composed and confident than he felt. Her free hand flew to her mouth and he could see tears welling up in her eyes. His heart sank – he'd done it wrong, he must have. Human and fairy courting traditions were so different, and he'd tried researching, spent so much time looking up ways to propose to her, human ways, but most of them involved airplanes and sounded dangerous or ridiculous.

Rae pressed her lips together and smiled, nodding.

Tracy's heart stopped in his chest and his eyes widened. "What?"

"Yes," she answered happily. "Yes!" Rae threw her arms around his neck and he caught her. He nearly dropped the box in surprise, grabbing her shoulders as she took his face in her hands, kissing her deep and dizzyingly.

They were getting _married_.


	9. The Queen's Wedding

Rae swallowed hard, looking herself up and down in the full length mirror. Her heart hammered in her chest and she felt sick, but it was the most wonderful kind, nervous and excited, simultaneously telling yourself 'I can't believe this is happening,' and 'I can't do this.'

A young girl – Iris – one of Tracy's sisters stood behind her, adjusting the corset of the dress for her. It was beautiful, form fitting with the fabric bunching around her calves to splay in rivers of silk on the floor, the train dragging behind her. She ruffled the material with her hands, bringing it to its fullest, pausing as she tied the ribbon around Rae's waist. "Nervous?" she asked, lightly, laying a hand on her hip to smooth out the silk.

Rae could only nod, her voice caught in her throat and her breath shaky. Diana came up in front of her, tucking away a stray lock of hair and pinning it with a flower. Her hair was done up in tight rings, each pinned to the crown of her head with a white flower. "Don't be." She said gently, smiling as she lifted Rae's chin, spreading a fine powder on her neck. "Everything's going to be fine, you watch. You look beautiful."

She muttered a thank you and glanced over at the bouquet of flowers lying on the chair. The thought of what those flowers were for made her heart flutter and she became light headed. She reached a hand out and Diana steadied her. "Iris, loosen the corset; she's having enough trouble catching her breath as it is!"

The bindings came away with ease and were redone to accommodate her sudden need for space. She was able to breath more easily and bend slightly over, at least.

"There's nothing to worry about," Iris reassured her as she sat, "How many times did we go through this? Everything was perfect then, everything will be perfect now."

"But, what if the magic-"

"The magic is fine." Diana cut in "Every ceremony in FairyLand uses the same magic. No matter who you are, fairy, human, _gorgon_, the magic will work."

Rae pressed her lips together, blood red and rather startling in contrast to the pallor color of her powdered skin, and nodded. They were right, she told herself. Everything would be fine.

Iris painted her face, taking the fine tip brush and dipping it into the oils, drawing symbols on her eyes and tickling her when she painted on her cheeks, down the bridge of her nose and on her lips. Later these painted areas would be visible, but for the moment she had to resist the urge to wipe at her tingling face. She covered her hands with fine lace gloves that extended up the length of her arm and ceased at the elbow – they were the same material as what was on the corset and what fringed the train behind her. The dress was sleeveless, showing off her collar bone and the vine-like design of the necklace she wore.

Diana finished painting her face, now swirled with patterns and symbols, as Iris took the crown off of the placeholder. It was a ring with a translucent veil attached to it, woven into the layers of silver, the seams hidden by flowers not unlike the ones she wore in her hair.

Rae's hands trembled as she lowered the veil over her face. Since she was a little girl, she'd dreamed of being a bride, of walking down the aisle on her father's arm to meet the man she loved.

Today, she wasn't a bride.

She was a Queen.

Of course, she wasn't actually ruling over a kingdom, nor did she suddenly find that she descended from a line of royalty, of any sort. It was simply the term traditionally used. A long time ago, she'd been told, a fairy bride and groom would preside over the others as a true King and Queen for three days prior and three days after the wedding.

The planning of the wedding had been a handful. It wasn't much of an area of expertise on either family's side to combine Human and Fairy marriage traditions. Each ceremony was so intricate that to take too much away from it would more than easily invalidate the marriage.

The event wasn't held in a church or a chapel – most places such as those were far too uncomfortable with the unusual rituals taking place in the marriage to offer them a place to conduct the ceremony.

But they'd found a wedding hall on the Human Plane, one that wasn't of any particular faith, that was more than comfortable with any plans that they had to execute within its walls.

Rae allowed the girls one last pass – oh, how excited they were to be doing this! – and took up the bouquet. Tracy's sisters each took up a small basket and led her out the door to the event foyer. Her heart was hammering in her chest as her father stepped up, linking their arms together. She swallowed hard and nodded to his question. Everyone wanted to know if she was okay.

She was getting _married_, of course she wasn't okay. This was terrifying and wonderful and it made her so happy she just wanted to burst, but she couldn't because she was getting _married_. She laughed weakly – there wasn't enough air in her lungs to support anything that didn't sound choked – as the doors opened.

That was when things changed.

Mere seconds ago, she'd been terrified out of her mind, ready to bolt one way or the other, to or from the hall where their families were gathered.

Diana and Iris went ahead, tossing purple crocus petals to the floor.

Her father was the first to move, urging her forward. She stepped awkwardly, finding the appropriate rhythm and keeping in pace with her father, but never taking her eyes away from the altar. There was no minister, as per usual wedding. There was simply him and her, the way they wanted it to be, and two golden cups sitting in the podium behind them.

He stood there in a striking silver threaded suit, coat tails falling behind him, looking as nervous as she did, but when they spied each other, there was suddenly nothing – no worries, no nervousness – nothing but an overwhelming joy. Rae smiled, fighting the urge to cry as tears threatened to slip down her cheeks, ruining all the careful work that Diana had done with the oils, which had begun to grow warm on her face. The moment she stepped up to the altar and the ceremony started, the markings began to glow, faintly at first, before escalating to create a striking silver pattern than decorated her face, neck and chest.

Tracy smiled down at her, hands twitching for hers, though he kept them at his sides. "Look at you," he breathed. "A proper Queen."

She let out another choked laugh. "Tracy," she looked up at him, eyes brimming. "I take you to be my lawfully wedded King. Before these witnesses I vow to love you and care for you as long as we both shall live. I take you, with all of your faults and strengths, as I offer myself to you with my faults and strengths. I will help you when you need help, and will turn to you when I need help. I choose you as the person with whom I will spend my life." She held her right hand out, palm up, for him to take.

He own hand didn't move yet, as he leaned over slightly. "Rae, I take you to be my lawfully wedded Queen. Before these witnesses I vow to love you and care for you as long as we both shall live. I take you, with all of your faults and strengths, as I offer myself to you with my faults and strengths. I will help you when you need help, and will turn to you when I need help. I choose you as the person with whom I will spend my life." He took her hand in his right.

It was a brilliant light that shone from their hands, clasped in one another, as they reached over with their other, each taking a goblet from the podium. They linked their arms together and brought their cups to their lips, drinking deeply the red wine. The symbols on Rae's face burned terribly, and she was sure his did as well, though his were painted on his chest and shoulders, under the wedding clothes. They drank until the pain subsided, goblets empty, and they disentangled themselves, setting the cups back in their original place.

Next came the younger fairy, Tracy's niece who could barely walk, toddling over to the couple in a delicate powder pink dress. She held up a small satin pillow to them and they bent over, taking the rings from their nest.

He took her hand first, bowing his head to hers and slipping the sleek silver band – more brilliant than any silver she'd seen – over her finger. "With this ring, I thee wed," he said softly.

When he released her, she immediately took up his hand, performing the same motions and slipping the ring onto his finger. "With this ring, I thee wed."

She could see the sheen of the metal ripple slightly, as if a light had passed over them. He seemed to notice it too, taking it as a cue to wrap his arms around her, drawing her to him as he bent his head and kissed her.

She reached up and threw her arms around his neck, twining her fingers in his hair before he scooped her up, turning towards the crowd. She craned her neck, bowing her head towards him. "I love you," she said, the tears finally slipping down her cheeks. .

He kissed her again, fleeting because of the awkward position. "I love you too, my Queen."


	10. The King's Wedding

Tracy sat rigid in the arm chair as Jerry leaned over him, paintbrush in hand. The older fairy was prattling on about anything that came to mind, and Tracy tried to focus on his stories, the account of his own wedding – "Be happy your girl isn't a Leprechaun; human weddings are so much easier to handle, let me tell you." – and the King-to-be was surprised that his best man couldn't hear the steady pounding of his heart. He was _terrified_.

He knew what he was doing, but somehow he couldn't wrap his head around it. Every time the thought struck, it came as an electric jolt to him, something that twisted his insides and made him stop breathing for a second.

He was getting _married_.

He and Rae talked about it for a long time, they'd been engaged for almost a year, and they'd had so much planning to do, of course, but it just… crept up on him. It was almost as if he hadn't actually expected to be here, having his best man painting the traditional symbols onto his chest, as was custom in a fairy wedding. (They'd made a lot of compromise, they'd joined fairy and human traditions to accommodate both sides of the family, and yet, he felt, it meshed perfectly.)

He just couldn't believe that in less than an hour, he was going to be _married_.

He swallowed hard, tilting his head back and staring at the ceiling as the cold oils were slicked across his skin.

"Tracy!" The man's gaze flickered back to his friend, who was hovering concernedly over him. He jumped in surprise, and the paintbrush that was held to his bare chest smeared lavender and coconut oil in a wide streak and Tracy sighed. "Hey, you okay, kid?" Jerry asked.

The older fairy didn't move, waiting for an answer. "Yeah, I'm fine, mate. Must've caught something, haven't been feeling very well at all." His words tumbled out, slurred and anxious.

The man scoffed, though it went unnoticed. "Sure. But you know you _do_ have to be _conscious_ for your wedding vows-" he took a peek over and saw that whatever color had been left in Tracy's cheeks vanished. "Look, you're nervous, I get it, but having a heart attack before you even get to the altar isn't going to help." He said, setting the bowl of oils aside, looking his friend square in the eye.

Tracy rubbed absently at the side of his arm. "Can't help it, can I? I just… I don't know about this, it's-"

"Stop." Jerry cut across him. "That right there. That is the _worst_ thing you could say on your wedding day. Trust me, I know this is big. But your girl is probably in the next room right now tearing her hair out and wearing a rut in the floor from pacing. She's just as nervous as you are, and for what? What's the worst that could happen?" he asked, and Tracy gave a groan, tossing his head back again. That was the last thing he wanted to hear, _what could go wrong_? "No, I mean it! What could go wrong? You both have consent. Are you gonna leave her at the altar?"

"No!" Tracy growled. He might be a nervous wreck, but he would never do that to her.

"Right. Is she? She's in there with _both_ of your sisters, I don't think she could if she wanted to, which she doesn't. And as long as you two go through the rituals like me and your parents showed you, _what could go wrong_? Huh? Nothing!" Jerry moved forward and laid a hand on his arm. "You're getting worked up over nothing. I know this is big, hey, I remember my wedding; I was all over the place, okay? But if you don't relax you're going to end up spending your wedding night in the hospital." He softened his voice. "Kid, I've known you since you were bout this tall," he held his hand up to somewhere right above Tracy's middle. He gave his friend a curious look, and the older fairy shrugged. "You were tall for your age. Point is, I know _you_, and I know you're a good guy. The missus in the next room, she's lucky, especially with everything you two went through. You know that a lot of people who have their heart broken like that don't love the same way twice. That alone should tell you just what you mean to her. It's gonna be fine, okay?"

Tracy nodded, and Jerry poked him in the ribs. "Go ahead and wash it all off, we'll start over."

Tracy picked his head up and spied the scrubbing sponge on the sink basin, walking over and reaching for it with a huff. His skin was already sensitive from the first scrubbing, and he tried his best not to hit the spot on his ribcage where the skin hurt the most. "M'sorry, Jer." He said. "Not all there, y'know?"

"Not a problem." He said, mixing more oil. When Tracy stood up straight to dry off and his face was properly reflected in the mirror, Jerry could get a good look at him. "Geeze, kid, you're white as a sheet. Look, when we're done here you really ought to get something to eat, or else you could pass out in the middle of the ceremony." He said, as Tracy sat down, chest thrust forward and Jerry resumed painting. "Come to think of it, do you even eat? I don't think I've ever seen you take more than a cup of tea." Another poke at his ribs. "You certainly don't look like it. Get that pretty little wife of yours to make some pasta, sometime, kid." He said.

The color immediately rushed to Tracy's face, turning his cheeks, neck and shoulders a bright red. Jerry laughed.

An hour flew by, Tracy half concentrating on Jerry's ramblings as the markings were finished, and he dressed after everything had dried. His fingers were trembling too much for him to properly button his cuffs, what with only twenty minutes until the ceremony began, and Jerry took each wrist in turn, repeating himself, "Calm down, kid, you're gonna have a coronary."

He wiped absently at his face with his free hand as Jerry released his other wrist. He did get something to eat, forcing it down and hoping that he wouldn't be sick. Given the choice between passing out or being sick at the altar, neither one seemed like a very good option. He stood there with Jerry flanking him on his left and the family out on the right – it was a small wedding, immediate family, because for Rae's extended family to attend would mean exposure, putting his family at risk, and it was a unanimous agreement to keep as little people as possible on the guest list.

His heart hammered in his chest and he became more lightheaded the longer he stood there. The markings on his chest had begun tingling when he stepped up onto the platform, and he resisted the urge to paw at his chest or loosen his tie – he felt like he could very well suffocate, just then.

The music picked up and his heart stopped dead in his chest for a terrifying moment when the doors opened.

That was when things changed.

Mere seconds ago, he'd been terrified out of his mind, ready to pass out.

Diana and Iris came first, tossing purple crocus petals to the floor.

She came after, on her father's arm, swathed in a cream-silver gown, veil and train flowing behind her, looking as nervous as he did, but when they spied each other, there was suddenly nothing – no worries, no nervousness – nothing but an overwhelming joy. He smiled, his heart calming its frantic bid to escape his chest, and the moment she stepped foot on the altar, the paintings acted up, warming on his chest and calming him.

Tracy smiled down at her, hands twitching for hers, though he kept them at his sides. "Look at you," he breathed. "A proper Queen."


	11. Clour Deri

Fairies were dangerous. It was a fact among humans, centuries ago. They were malicious and conniving; they were mischievous and often came to The Human Plane, looking for food and shelter, and the unsuspecting humans would see their beautiful, painted faces and their gossamer wings, and welcome them warmly into their household, giving them fire and sweet milk and cake, only to have their home destroyed and their children taken away in the middle of the night.

Fairies thought nothing of humans – some made sport of harassing human families, driving the young women mad with fantasy; some meaner, more brazen fairies took to fire, setting crops and homes ablaze, occasionally killing a human or two – no consequence to them, of course. The colonies more or less kept to themselves, seeing no reason to wage war between the tribes, when they could bent their frustrations on the humans.

His race had no motivations but to sustain themselves, and with the humans they were more than able to. With the discovery of The Human Plane came the end of magical sacrifice, the fairies using humans as we once used sheep and swine, tossing them into the swirling pool of magic with a prayer to sustain their world.

It wasn't until Queen Mab, thousands of years ago, who rose from the tribes, uniting them with species-wide civilization.

Her magic, the most intense and well-refined magic ever witnessed, had given her wisdom beyond her years, beyond the years of any fairy to have lived. She constructed a society, a plan devised to ensure the continued existence of their world and the abolishment of human blood sport, enlightening her race on the value of human kind, how it was wrong to treat them, the fairies' _equals_ from another plane of existence, in such a way, and her learned ways taught them that the sacrifice was not necessary. Fairies merely needed to collect fragments – bits and bobs that the humans would not miss, that possessed the same magic; a stocking, a thimble, or a child's tooth.

Human sacrifice halted, the tales and belief of fairies dwindling save for the pure, untainted belief of the children, the most powerful magic available to feed their world, and Mab was praised as a Queen, lifted above the masses and made to rule in her wisdom and health, to preside over and entire race, and she did so gracefully, building an empire from disjointed colonies, a society that thrived in the space of a generation. Fairies learned that teeth, placed under the pillow with the express belief that it would be gone in the morning, taken to another world by a magical being, harbored far more magic than common items nicked from a human's house, and they took them more often, leaving trinkets or little silver coins in place of the teeth, as a thank you and an apology for the race's terrible deeds. Soon, the humans adopted the affectionate term "Tooth Fairy."

Oddly enough, it stuck, and they elaborated upon their discoveries, building Fairy around the massive pool of magic. , slowly learning more about the humans as their customs and conventions were accepted into fairy society. They began speaking English, a process that only took a few years to disperse throughout the population, and fairies flourished, their world being sustained and healthy, and most fairies could not recall such a level of efficiency or harmony among their people.

But even fairies die, and Mab, their beloved Queen, fell ill. Not even magic can reverse death, and they lost her. The late Queen's closest and most trusted friends took over, ruling in her name as they knew she would have wanted. They preserved the new society, building up from the substantial foundation left behind, leading the fairies forward, to the life they had today. The Monarchy was done away with, no one willing to take the throne after Mab, and an Oligarchy was established by her surviving friends. Every time the rule lost another fairy, a young man or woman, best and brightest of their generation, would be chosen to fill the position. Lily was one, he told her, and she didn't have a hard time believing him, but that didn't make the occasion any less sad.

It was Clour Deri, an Old Fairy term that literally translated to "Sadness of The Queen,"

She sat with him beneath the silver-leaved tree in their back yard, a candle between them. He guided the floating blossom into her palm, where it remained hovering and inch or two above her skin. Rae eased the blossom over the flame, letting it slip though her fingers and hover above the wick, engulfed by the fire. The delicate white petals curled and blackened as a sweet smelling smoke billowed between them.

Tracyheld her hand and smiled softly, thanking the late Queen for everything she did for fairy- and human-kind alike, for making it possible for him to be with his love, to keep her free of fear or prejudice in the world she now called home. It had often occurred to him during Rae's college years, that his time with her was extremely limited. An entire human lifetime could pass in the blink of an eye for a fairy, a full one hundred years seeming like a mere ten, and he knew that he had less than a decade with her. It had hurt so much, then, to know that after a few short years with the woman he loved, that they would be separated for centuries more.

He thanked Mab, blessed Queen, that he had been able to marry Rae and provide a safe home for her inFairyLand. He brushed her hair back, tying it back as she straightened his tie, and began to speak in quietly, muttering a prayer of another language – Mab's language – Old Fairy.

His voice came in a series of chirps and coos, and she smiled at him, so intrigued to hear his language, but completely clueless as to what he was saying. When he finished, the corners of his lips turned up, the smile crinkling his eyes. "Your turn," he said.

She stared up at him, a slight smile gracing her features. "How?" she asked, and he took her hand.

"Repeat," he instructed her, and he recited the prayer slowly in that old language, trying to get Rae to understand the strange noises. He chirped, and she chirped in response, and he laughed, leaning forward and kissing her forehead in the dying sunlight. "Close enough."

"What did I say?"

He pulled her close to him, having her lean back against him as he held her and hummed in thought. "Well. There were a few little mistakes, but that's okay. You said The Queen's Prayer. Some things don't translate very well, that's why we still say it in Old Fairy, but it's something along the lines of, 'my dear Queen, faithful and wise, thank you for your time with us, your compassion and your guidance. Thank you for life, love and health that I find in this place, the home of the fairies.' Not honestly as complicated as it sounds in our language, is it?" he chuckled, holding her. He watched as she lowered a second blossom onto the flame, the smoke billowing into the early night air.

He thought, closing his eyes and letting the sweet smoke fill him. If things hadn't changed all those generations ago, where would they be today, him and his wife? Millennia ago, for a fairy to love a human, things rarely went well for the couple. Most recorded instances of a human inFairyLandended in death for the human – fairies then were not accepting of humans in their world. They simply did not belong. The alternative was for the fairy to leave his or her world and live on The Human Plane, which was more or less the better outcome, until prolonged absence from magic ended their life. It was bleak for human-fairy couples, in the old days, and rarely were they able to make it work, where they lived on their respective planes of existence and the fairy flit by whenever they could, not unlike how he and Rae had seen each other in the first year.

He clung to her, the severity of the notion hitting him full force, and he found that he'd never been more grateful for their late Queen's compassion for humans than he was then.


	12. Guld Fethel

Fairy Land quickly became a second home to her. It was a culture shock, no doubt, to be thrust from one realm of existence to the next, where magic was abound and every other person was winged. Life with Tracywas more than she'd ever dreamed of. She loved him with everything she had and he returned that love enthusiastically. She lived in an over-stimulated rush of life for the first few months, constantly expecting to wake up, to find that everything was the result of a fever dream or something of the like; it was too good to be true, to have found the love of her life like this. The stuff of fairy tales, ironically enough. But every night, she'd lie down with him, and every morning she'd wake up to him, and it was _perfect_.

She was able to procure a job at Fairy, working a along side other wingless fairies as a receptionist or a secretary as needed. She spent her days filing papers and sorting teeth. Tracy was concerned for her as she did this, knowing that some fairies weren't particularly_nice_ to those in her line of work, but she never seemed to mind any offhanded comment made about her. It was something she knew they would have to adjust to, having a human permanently among their ranks. Reversely, it would take _her_ time to adjust to living outside of The Human Plane. Often times, when asked her name and age, when being introduced to a new fairy, she would reply the way she knew how, warmly and with a smile, telling the new acquaintance that her name was _Rae_ and that she was _29_. The first time this happened, Rae wasn't sure why she was suddenly given strange looks, she wasn't sure why they asked her if she needed to go to the ward and rest a bit, if Fairy was a bit overwhelming, and it took several minutes for them to come to an understanding, that fairy years and human years were completely different in their implication to age.

Still, newly wedded bliss aside, Fairy Land was a peculiar place for a human to live. She'd spent her entire life on another plane of existence, with different social structure, different life ideals and different customs.

Tracy helped her, explaining the various events and customs, coaching her through fairy society every step of the way and, eventually, she became accustomed to it, the change of culture. They spent the fairy holidays with Tracy's family, human holidays with Rae's family. It took her some time to pronounce and retain the names of his holidays, though, as fairies had used their own language millennia ago, before English was introduced to them through human interaction.

It was the first day of spring – the mark of the New Year in Fairy Land– and they were gathered for the day, though Rae had little idea what they were actually celebrating. It was called Guld Fethel, not quite as a mouthful as some of the other holidays, easier to pronounce. The little that Tracy had told her on their way to Diana's home gave her the impression that it couldn't be too different from New Year's Eve.

When they weren't cooking in preparation for the night's meal, they sat around a large rectangular dining table, chatting and laughing and waiting for dusk. Rae sat close toTracy, the backs of their chairs touching as she leaned against him, sipping the sweet, clear, nectar-like liquid. It was colorless, odorless, and for all its practicality looked and acted exactly like water.

She inquired about the liquid, and was told that it _was_ water. She'd merely laughed and asked again. "No, really. What is this?"

"Oh, ah, not water like you're thinking, honeybee," Tracy interjected hurriedly. "See, we've got this place, called The Waters. It – it _is_ water. Just not _your_ water, right?"

She sloshed the liquid around in the glass, watching as it swirled in a rainbow of translucent colors, like mother of pearl. She saw it, now, really concentrating on the drink and it was startling and beautiful and brought all kinds of questions to her mind, but this was neither the time nor the place to ask them. She had a whole life time ahead of her to answer the numerous questions posed by her new home. Today, though, she merely shrugged against her husband and took another sip. He laughed, holding her closer around the shoulders.

Oberon, Tracy's father, clapped his hands together and stood. "I think it's about time to start, don't you? If we don't get a move on we won't be finished in time!"

"True," Tracy said lightly, more of a hum than anything. He knew what this event entailed, knew that it would take a long time with how meticulously the ceremony was. There were other noises and agreements around the table.

"So who's the guest of honor this year?" Tracy asked; his time at work and on the Human Plane had kept him more or less out of the loop the last year. His mother smiled and Iris laughed, and many of the other fairies around the large table chuckled. "What?"

"Well, Rae, of course!" his aunt exclaimed, and he gave a groan of realization.

"Do you think this is a good idea? After all, I mean, this _is_ her first Guld Fethel. I don't know if she's up to it, you know…" and was rather dismayed when Rae laughed, seemingly happy to go along with his family's plans.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be fine, sweetie," she reassured him, taking another sip from the cup.

"Wonderful!" Mab said, standing, rounding the table to meet Rae and pluck her from her seat.

His wife stood, and allowed his mother to pull her hair back from her face and tie it with a silver ribbon.

"Did Tracy tell you anything about Guld Fethel, dear?" she asked, lifting her chin.

"Just… just really the basics," she said, laughing lightly.

"Perfect!" Mab exclaimed warmly. "Let the sacrifice begin!"

The smile left Rae's lips and her face paled, her eyes flicking over to her husband, who smiled slyly and shrugged. Her mouth hung open and she looked around the room for any sign of a joke.

The woman at her side led her from the kitchen to the back yard, and everyone, including her husband, followed. She was led onto a white terraced platform, where she stood alone next to a pedestal holding a stone bowl and paintbrush once her mother-in-law retreated to join the rest of the fairies on the ground below. Her husband stood at the forefront of the small crowd, looking up at her with his sleeves rolled up and hands buried in his pockets. He smiled in the dying sunlight and she began shaking. "You allright up there, honeybee?"

She was at a loss for words. _Sacrifice_? "I think you might have left something out!" she growled.

There was a roar of laughter from below her that made her face burn and Tracy ascended the steps to join her. He stepped up to her and bent his head, kissing her. "You did say you were up to this," he joked, earning a stern look from his wife. "Oh, don't be like that. It's not like it's an _actual_ sacrifice. Just go along with it," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling it from her side, holding one of her dainty hands in his as he removed the lid from the bowl at their side, dipping the paintbrush in and swirling around the contents. It was a deep black, she saw when he withdrew the brush, the fine brown hairs at the end dripping with ink. He wiped the excess off on the side of the stone bowl and brought it to her hand, tracing a symbol on her skin in expert calligraphy. Her fingers trembled, unsure of what it was, exactly, that he was doing. As he painted, dipping the brush back into the bowl to replenish the ink, he talked to her. "The story of Guld Fethel is, admittedly, a little long, so I'll explain later. For now, _this_," he said, touching the cold ink to her hand again. "is the symbol for unconditional love." With one last stroke of the brush, he finished the symbol, something that looked like an overzealous, sideways question mark with the dot in the curve. "Each one of us will take a turn and paint a symbol onto your hands. They're our wishes to you." He bent and whispered in her ear, smiling lightly. "And you know I'm going to make sure my wish for you comes true." He turned his head and gave her another quick kiss, replacing the bush in the stone bowl and leaving her on the platform. The moment he left the platform, she looked at her hand and saw the ink dry; when she ran her finger over it she couldn't feel anything, no difference from her own bare skin.

Diana wasn't far behind, flitting up the steps to join her and using a quicker hand to draw out the symbols, her own calligraphy work no less perfect.

One by one, Tracy's family came to her, taking either hand and painting a symbol on any space available from the bases of her wrists to the tips of her fingers. Before long, the suns had dipped below the horizon and she could barely see her own hands in the dark, so blackened with ink they were in the night. Small patches of white peeked between the symbols, fragmenting her hands and giving them a ghost like quality.

When the last person had finished painting on her hands, they led her from the platform, down the set of steps opposite from where she'd gone up, and everyone filed back into the house, around the table and she took her seat back next to Tracy, her body losing the chill of the night in the warm dining room. It was a surprising contrast, the stark difference in temperature once the warmth of the twin suns had disappeared.

She snuggled against him, enjoying his warmth as she examined her hands. "I have no idea what any of this means," she said, at length. It was a simple statement that she hadn't meant to mean very much, but the family seemed to think it was very funny. She felt the heat involuntarily rise to her cheeks. She wasn't at all versed in the old language of the fairies, like they were. They must have thought it ridiculous, seeing her as any human might see an adult who couldn't read or write English.

Sensing her embarrassment over the accidentally blurted statement, he took her hand in his and raised it between them, brushing his thumb over a symbol. "This," he said, showing her something that looked like a backwards three, "is the symbol for safety. Protection and preservation," he said, thumbing over another, "Smiles and peace; faith; acceptance and recognition for all you do well," he said, turning her hand over so that he could see the symbols on her palm. "That's a wish for a guiding hand to help you through any trouble." He pointed, this one looking like a six with two loops, one on top of the other.

"What's this one?" she asked, pointing to a double arc with a strikethrough that was painted on the base of her wrist by her thumb.

"Oh, that's mine," Mab bubbled. "That's the symbol for fertility, dear."

"Mam!" Tracy scolded, the heat rising to his cheeks.

"What? You name me _one_ mother-in-law who doesn't want grandchildren, go on!" she exclaimed happily.

Ignoring his mother's challenge, Tracy cleared his throat and moved onto the next symbol, noticing how his wife's face was almost the same shade of pink as his. "That, that there," he pointed, "is the symbol for dedication and communication." Let's see the other, honeybee," he said, releasing her and allowing her to raise her left hand, reading each symbol off and telling her what it meant.

"So, how does this represent sacrifice?" she asked when he'd finished, almost dreading the answer. He laughed at her nervousness.

"A long time ago – millennia, actually – we, as a race, didn't know about collecting teeth. Even in your culture it's a fairly new concept. Still, that pool of magic at Fairy has been in this world long before us Tooth Fairies. That's what keeps FairyLandalive, and our ancestors were willing to do whatever it took to make sure it stayed that way." He said as her hand dropped back to her lap. He slung an arm around the back of her chair, around her shoulders and leaned back. "Now, humans have known about fairies for almost as long as they've existed – the humans, that is. They used to believe in us a lot easier, though, I'll tell you. But something that the humans noticed about us was that… well, we took their children." The words fell heavily from him, dragged out and none too proud. "I'm sure you've heard of fairy Changelings. Fairies would come and take human children and leave fairy children, the Changelings, in their place. It was… a fairly common practice in our world, perhaps up to two, three thousand years ago. Of course, a lot of humans still accused their children of being Changelings, but it wasn't us. We'd take the children and… we'd, uhm…" he rubbed absently at his face. "We – we'd basically toss them in the pool. This went on for quite a while, and eventually we started drawing symbols on them before we did, sorts of wishes to the magic. 'Please be appeased until next year, happy Guld Fethel.' Of course, it wasn't very happy for the children, as you can imagine," he laughed nervously. "But it worked, for us. We realized that we didn't need the whole child, and we started taking little things. A lock of hair, _a tooth_, whatever without having to take the child. Some fairies left compensation, an apology for taking so many children. And eventually, the children started leaving things for us to take, willingly! In turn we'd leave little gifts under their pillows, and… now we have Tooth Fairies, as it happens."

There was a roar of laughter from the other side of the table, one of the other conversations going on. She looked up, startled, and Mab leaned in to pat the human girl on the knee. "You looked so nervous up there," she smiled. "I'm sorry you didn't know about it earlier. I _thought_ that Tracy would have told you," she shot a look at her son, then back to her daughter-in-law. "Sorry for the scare; no one here would hurt you, you're far too precious," she smiled, crinkling her eyes and nose. "But that's only half of the night, you know!" She pulled Rae from her husband's arms and led her down the hall, to a half-bathroom that held only a sink, guiding her in and shutting the door to give her some privacy. "Go ahead and wash that all off, dear."

Rae turned to the sink and turned the one faucet, watching as Water spilled forth. Fascinated, she noticed that it was the same iridescent liquid she'd seen earlier, what was in her glass sitting on the table. She frowned slightly, touching a finger to it. Upon contact, the ink at the tip of her finger vanished, swept away with the Water and flowing down the drain like fresh ink. She stuck her hand under the stream and watched, mesmerized as the ink fled from her skin, leaving behind no trace.

She washed her hands free of the ink, watching all the well wishes vanish, carried with the Water to somewhere else, to be communicated there. She dried her hands and went back to join the rest of her new family, reclaiming her seat next to her husband. He took her hands, now free of the black ink, in his and pressed his lips to her fingertips. "Happy Guld Fethel, honeybee," he said. She laughed with an energy that, for most people, would only be possible in the super-charged atmosphere of Fairy Land. But for her, he knew, such levels of life were normal, they were what made Rae herself, and she was _happy_, indeed.


	13. Lu'Leas Be Tselares

Rae woke up to the smell of smoke. She bolted out of bed, her limbs not working correctly and tangling the covers around herself in her frenzy. She fell to the floor with a thud, removing whatever sheets still clung to get and bounding out of the bedroom.

The moment she opened the door, which Tracyhad taken care to shut behind him as he left her to sleep, she noticed that it wasn't a 'burning wood' smell, which would mean that their home was on fire. It was heavier than that, and it gave her pause at the door, as she sniffed at the air. It was a strong smell, one that made her a tad lightheaded, and she realized that it was entirely _familiar._ She was more confused that frightened, now, as she descended the stairs into the was there, swathed in all white – a very striking appearance – and hunched over the kitchen countertop, nursing a dying match as he made his way around the kitchen, lighting every candle that was set out. She recognized the smell, now – that of an overbearing candle shop – and marveled at the sheer mass of wax for a moment before her husband noticed her. He quickly extinguished the exhausted match, beaming down at her. "Good morning, sunshine!" He embraced her warmly, and she laughed, laying her hands on his, around her stomach.

"Sunshine? That's new."

He held her from behind, ducking his head and all but purring. "Thought maybe the occasion called for it."

"And… what's the occasion? The same occasion that calls for all these candles?"

"Quick as a whip, you are," he joked, releasing her. "Go on, go get dressed. Not much daylight left."

Rae stood in a stupor for a moment. "What? It's eight in the morning, what do you mean 'not much daylight left?'"

"It's Lu'Leas Be Tselares, honeybee. Go on, before the suns die." He pushed her from the kitchen, into the powder room in the hall, still quite stunned as he shut the door behind her. She found herself in the well-lit bathroom, looking at a simple white dress that hung opposite her. To say that she slipped it on without a second thought would have been incorrect. She'd learned that quite a bit aboutFairyLand, her new home, would take her by surprise. Once the slip was over her head and pulled down over her hips, flowing around her ankles, she went to join her husband again.

He was lighting more candles.

"Care to explain?" she asked, helping him nurse the weak flame.

"Every year, the suns are reborn," he answered, happy to explain fairy holidays to her. She couldn't be expected to know what the holidays _meant_, let alone what they _were_, and he would act as her translator until she became more proficient in the old language, or at least had cycled through all the odd holidays and ceremonies fairies entertained. "Awful lot of work, for them, so we try to stay out of the way. Power goes out and everything goes dark."

"Hence the candles."

"Hence the white clothes. If you go outside in the pitch black, you'll want to be at least_semi_-visible, won't you?"

"How long do we have, until the suns explode?" she asked, and he could hear a tone of fear tingeing her voice. He stopped his frenzy, putting out another match – that was probably enough candles – and held his wife.

"They're not _exploding_, honeybee. They're being reborn. Ever heard of a Phoenix?" she nodded in response. "S'like that. The suns don't have a lot of life in them, but we _need_them, so they just start over every year. It's okay; look." He moved her to a window, where the world outside was bathed in an eerie light, turning everything blood red as the suns began their death.

The lights in the house flickered, electricity and magic alike crackling through the air before everything went dark. The only light left was that given by the candles, and the quickly fading fiery light outside. At length, even that left, plunging the world into darkness, and unexpected and prolonged night.

He explained to her that this night would last until the suns were reborn a week later. That final day would mark Lu'Leas Be Tselares, "Day of the Twin Suns." He told her that this happened every year, and that the death of the suns here is unlike any predictions made about the death of the sun from her world. Those stories told of the death of an entire world, her world, and he could understand her unease. Once the dark settled, and the suns were gone, he took her outside, laughed with her when he saw her expression, a pleasantly shocked reaction to the way their stark white garments seemed to glow in the excited magic of the night. The humans didn't call the darkest part of the night 'the witching hour' for nothing. Even on The Human Plane, magic was tangible at the peak of night.

He loved it; he loved _her_ and how she was so fascinated by everyday, mundane things. Things he'd lived with his whole life, all new experiences for her, and seeing how giddy it made her, it was brilliant! He joined her, pulling her down to the soft grass, lying with her as they watched the stars, bright blue and green against the ink black of a cloudless sky.

"God, it's so beautiful here," she breathed at his side, running a hand over the folds of the dress, shooing away one of the small glowing bugs that had landed.

Fairy Land, when looked at in a certain light – or lack thereof, in this case – could be very beautiful, but just like anything else, there were the darker parts of the realm, as well; parts that he would make sure she never stumbled upon, parts that he would make sure never hurt her. He hummed in reserved agreement, sticking a finger out for one of the silk flies to land. "This is the only time out of the year these little fellas come out," he said absently. "They don't like the sun all too much."

It flew off as Rae turned on her side, snuggling up to him. "What happens when the suns are reborn?" she asked; the air was thick and warm, super-charged by the death of the suns to keep Fairy Land from freezing, to keep it alive, and it was comfortable, tricking her body into thinking it was actually night time, instead of nine in the morning.

He kissed her, holding her against him as he felt sleep tugging at the edges of his mind as well. Of course, this was entirely normal. A trick of the warm, magical air, to lull them into a quiet hibernation until the sun woke them a week later. Often times, the want for sleep could be fought off, but he saw no reason now, comfortable and safe in the soft grass with Rae. He contemplated her question. "When the suns rise…" he chuckled. "You think_this_ is beautiful? Just wait," he whispered, leaning into her and letting the sleep taking him.


	14. Mortality

The twin suns shone through the window, providing sufficient light for Tracy to work by. It was early in the morning, and he was due to work soon. He picked the phone up from the cradle, shouldering it as he shuffled through the stack of papers. "'Lo!" he declared into the mouthpiece, stooping down to pick up a paper he'd dropped. A man's voice began prattling away on the other end, a voice that Tracy recognized to be Rae's father. The fairy interrupted him waiting as he came to a sputtering stop. "Morning, sir! Everything all right on your end? You sound a bit frantic…"

There was a pause on his end. "Tracy…?" he asked, sounding a bit confused.

"Yessir."

"Could you… put Rae on, please?"

Tracy could hear the slight tone of unease in his voice, and that gave him praise. "Sure," he said after a moment.

Rae was in the kitchen, handling a pot of tea and two mugs. Tracy told her that her father was on the line and handed her the receiver, helping her cradle it between her shoulder and ear. "Hi, dad!" she bubbled.

Tracy pecked her on the cheek and took one of the mugs from her hands, allowing her to hold the phone in a much more comfortable manner.

Tracy sipped the tea, sitting at the kitchen table and shifting through the papers. It'd been years since his last job as a Caseworker – rehabilitating Rae, as it happened – but that didn't mean he was free of paperwork; quite the opposite, in fact, he was required to fill out a collection sheet every few weeks, so that Fairy could keep track of progress. Despite the fact that he was running on his eighth year as a Tooth Fairy, he was still fairly new at the job – many on his team had been doing runs since they graduated the academy, literally hundreds of years. It wasn't so much a disadvantage as it was a learning experience. After Lily set things straight with that one bloke in Dispatch, his job had become much more enjoyable.

Tracy didn't have to be at work quite yet – he still worked the day shifty, so he got to spend plenty of time with Rae before they both went off to work (she had been able to get a job at Fairy in administration.)

There was a clatter, the sharp, painful noise of shattering ceramic.

Tracy looked back to see Rae standing there, phone to her ear and ceramic shards at her feet. He bolted up and moved carefully around the mess to her.

She severed the connection, handing up and seeming shocked to see the mess at her feet, grabbing a rag and trying to mop up the tea, tears stinging at her eyes. She barely heard Tracy, his concerned voice as he hovered over her, supporting her and taking the rag, picking her up from the floor. "Rae, love, what happened?" he asked gently, pushing her hair from her eyes.

"M-mom," she breathed. "Mom's… mom died." She choked the words out, resting her forehead on his shoulder and he held her, crooning into her ear until her sobs quieted. Tracy sent her from the kitchen to clean up the broken ceramic and make her a new cup. As he heated the water, he could hear her sniffling in the next room.

He went to her, holding her close as she calmed. "The—" she hiccupped, "The funeral's next week." She said, and he held her.

"Back in Mesa?" he asked, and she nodded, taking the mug and supping tentatively. "I'll talk to Lily today, and we'll go first thing tomorrow morning."

And go they did.

It was a small hotel room, comfortable enough for the two of them as they spent the week with Rae's family, many of whom Tracy had never met, who were surprised to learn that Rae had wed, and were more than a little cautious of him.

They didn't see Rae's father until later the evening they arrived in Mesa. He was at home, pale as a ghost and somber, a startling contrast to the boisterous man Tracy knew. It was sad, to see him so disheartened, to see him lose the person who meant absolutely everything to him. A knot formed in Tracy's chest at the thought of losing Rae.

When her father saw them, he frowned. "Rae?"

She went to embrace her father, tearful and just as heartbroken as he was, but after a moment, him hugging her back with a confused look on his face, pushing her back and studying her face.

"I'm so sorry, dad, I – I don't know what—"

"Rae, how long have you been married?" he asked. Of course he knew the answer.

Rae stuttered over her words, unsure of how to answer. Of course _she_ knew the answer, but it was just a startling question. "Three years."

He turned away. "Sorry. I must be… imagining things, too much stress these last few days. For a moment I thought…"

He left the two, muttering quietly to himself, and Rae moved back to Tracy, confused. He held her and she looked up at him, a question in her eyes.

The knot in his chest had dispersed, fallen into oblivion with the rest of his stomach, and he kissed her. "He thinks," Tracy explained, "that you look the same as you did on your wedding day." He paused, the knot returning and forcing its way up his throat. "Come on, I think we should… go back to the motel, now."

She followed, numbly, unsure of what to think.

He sat up with her when they got back, talking and trying to explain to her what her father had seen. He wasn't over stressed or delusional. It was very possible that he had in fact been right.

"What do you mean, he could be right?" she asked sharply.

Her husband sighed, leaning into her and cradling her against him. "Magic and love… they're the same thing, but sometimes, magic and love work together. The ceremony, my honeybee. Do you remember that? Those marking that my sisters painted on you? You know how that was to… connect us, magically connect us. But I think… because your father's correct, I think, when he says that you look the same…" Tracy sighed, kissing her temple. "Fairies live for… _so_ long. Hundreds of years, a thousand if you live long. Humans… humans don't. And the magic, the magic that… _connected_ us… I think it recognized that. It…" he took a deep breath. "It fixed that."

She was still underneath him. "What do you mean?"

Each of her words, slow and confused and sharp as a knife that cut through him and sent pangs of unease through his chest. "You won't… age, like a human would, anymore. The magic slowed you down… to protect _us_."

"So…" she started slowly, her voice low and hollow. "I'm going to live… for – for… oh my God." She breathed, her fingers tightening around the sheets.

"It's… it's not a bad thing, honeybee, I promise. It's—"

"Tracy," she interrupted, bowing her head.. "Tracy I love you. More than anything, I love you. But… I can't tell you how much it hurts right now, loosing my mom like this. People get to go with their loved ones, after so long. I just get to watch everyone die."

He could hear the unsteady tremor in her voice, and it broke her heart. Magic had many little quirks about it, more of which would crop up over time, he was sure, but this one – the one that would let them be together for centuries – it _hurt_ her, and it broke his heart to see the grim realization dawn on her face as she looked up at him.

"I can't do this. I can't watch everyone I love die," she choked, her voice thick and her cheeks wet with tears. He held her to him as she sobbed, the implications hitting her hard. He held her until her body stopped trembling, until her hands, once grasping the sheets, fell limp and her breathing came in little wispy hiccups and she slept.

He moved as gently as he could, sinking down into the bed to lie with her, trying not to disturb Rae. His heart ached for her now more than ever because this, _this_ he couldn't fix. No amount of love or magic or belief could. She wasn't much more than a pile of blankets, rising and falling slowly with her breath, and he slid down next to her, burying himself under the covers and slowly wrapping an arm around her, as not to wake her up. The poor thing had exhausted herself in her woes, and he wanted her to rest, to get a proper rest and maybe she wouldn't be so miserable in the morning.

There was a gentle sniffling noise from beneath him and he looked, seeing her looking, weary-eyed, up at him. "M'sorry, didn't mean to wake you," he breathed. "Go back to sleep, honeybee." He wanted her to rest; between the emotional taxation of her mother's death, the grim understanding she'd come to today, and the funeral tomorrow, she needed it so much.

She looked at him for a moment, dazed and confused, and he could tell she hadn't truly woken up. He held her closer, running a hand down her shoulders, the curve of her stomach and waist, drawing her hips closer to him. "I'm sorry, Rae." He said, his mouth at her ear. "I'm so sorry, I didn't—" he stopped as he sniffled again, and he kissed her forehead. "I can't imagine what this is like, and I'm sorry, honeybee, truly. But it'll get easier, won't it? That's what time does, just like it would normally. Everything will be okay, you watch. I'll make _sure_ of it."

She let out a muffled sob and buried her face in his chest. He moved his hand up and stroked her hair, rubbed at the back of her neck and kissed the crown of her head. "If it's any consolation, you've got me, and I'm not going anywhere, you can count on that. Every time something hurts I will always be there for you, my love."

She settled against him, eyes closed. "I love you," she choked. Feeling him there with her, holding her, didn't change the fact that she would age as a fairy, and watch every human she knew die around her, but somehow it made it _better_. He always made things better.

"I love you too," he crooned, his hand at the back of her neck encouraging sleep.

"Please don't leave me," she slurred, half asleep and fearful.

"Never, honeybee. Never." He muttered, craning his neck to rest his cheek against the top of her head. He closed his eyes and, with the rhythm of her steady breathing underneath him, his evened out to match hers, and they fell asleep together.


	15. Leaving

She groped for him in the dark, a pang of fear shooting through her chest as the room was swathed in a deep green light that restored some visibility - the emergency generators had kicked on. Rae twirled around frantically, searching for her husband. This wasn't supposed to happen. This couldn't be happening. Fairy Land had lost power. Something had failed, something had been overlooked and now their home was collapsing.

He found her first, miraculously spotting her through the droves of fairies that were scrambling to right everything. He was scared. Never in all of fairy history had this happened. He rushed to her, embracing her rather violently, heart hammering against his ribs as he looked down at her and saw the fear in her eyes. She knew what this was.

He grabbed her hand and took off, manoeuvring them through the thick sea of people, swimming against the current, the rip tide of movement in the lobby. He had to get her out. There was only one way to do this safely, now: a wand. He couldn't produce the magic field necessary to transport, but a wand could.

She didn't resist his lead until she found them in at the doorway to the basement, to the stockrooms. Tracy knew Jerry would be down there somewhere, but he wasn't here to make small talk. He dragged her through the halls of the stockroom, pausing every so often to re-adjust his grip on her. She knew what was coming, what he was doing, but with his heart in his throat, he couldn't very well explain it to her. He found the spare wands, and let go of her, holding it carefully in front of him and looking down at her. Her struggles stopped, and she panted in exasperation, wide-eyed and terrified. She asked him what he was doing.

Time seemed to stand still down in the cellars. Save for the eerie green light, it was nearly impossible to tell the chaos that was taking place on the upper levels. The feeling of dread in his chest was the only sign of it, and even that began to dissipate, as he moved closer to her, brushing her hair back and taking her face in his hands.

He bent down and planted his mouth against hers, kissing her forcefully, choking back the rising panic and trying to siphon all of his emotion into that one kiss, that one important kiss, to tell her that he loved her so much, to stay safe. He hated to admit it, but he was scared. He was scared that they were going to lose Fairy Land. He was scared that the Disenchantment would start before they could do anything about it. It was funny that way, how you never knew when it would start. You could lose power and it take anywhere from seconds or days for the process to begin. Whether or not you survived it was a matter of luck.

But most of all, he was scared that this was the last time he'd see her. He was scared that he was leaving her, confused and afraid, and that he'd never get to hold her or see her smile again.

When they broke, she seemed as dazed as he felt. They stood there for what felt like an eternity wrapped up in a few spare seconds, and when he finally broke their eye contact, she gave a start, clinging onto him as he fidgeted with the wand, begging him not to, trying to snatch the device away, but his height became an advantage and, as much as it hurt him, reduced her to a terrified, quivering mess.

All it took was a flick of the wand. She tried to cling to him, hoping that perhaps, somehow, it would take him with her. But as the magic - dulled and lethargic - swirled about her, it drove a wedge between them, dragging her away, putting space between them as it obscured him from her view. She could barely make out his shape, trembling, head held in his hands, as she fought the whirlwind around her.

The wind died down, the absence of the rushing magic and his wife's cried leaving a ringing silence in his ears.

Tracy was alone.


	16. Fireside

It was unusually cold for Fairy Land. The month of September was the lowest point of the half-year, in between the two springs. The living room, however, was warm. The fire burned and the two lay comfortably together on the couch. It'd been a long day - Rae hadn't felt well, as seven-month pregnant women were apt to feel. Tracy had taken off work to care for his wife, whose fever was just breaking. She'd been in a shock all morning, when she saw that he'd undone his tie and shed his vest, coming into the bedroom with breakfast and medicine for her. She'd been forever grateful, but had insisted that she would be okay. She knew how her husband fretted over missing work. He merely shushed her and told her that this was more important.

In all honesty, the fever had scared him. A part of him believed it was entirely irrational, it was just a fever! But yet another part of him knew that what thy were doing could be dangerous. News of the pregnancy had been met with hesitant congratulations, even by his parents - fact of the matter was that, while they knew it was possible to have a child, they did not know the implications of it. What would being with child - his child, a Faeid - do to Rae? That was his first concern, above all else. When her fever broke earlier in the day, he'd been relieved. It HAD just been a cold. He berated himself for working himself into a frenzy, but remained by her side regardless, the fear not quite satisfied. He loved her, and uncertainty of what he'd done to her weighed heavily on his mind, though he hadn't told her.

But presently, they lay together in front of the fire, ankles interlocked and his arms around her. She gazed sleepily at the flames - she was always so tired. Similarly, her fatigue alarmed him, though she reassured him it was normal. She held his free hand, rubbing a thumb in a crescent across the back of his hand. It was about all she could do not to fall asleep. She looked at him, her head lolling to the side. "Trace," she started, and he brought his hand up to touch her head. "Stop worrying."

The man blanched, the gentle stroking of her hair stopping. She laughed lightly. "Please. I can read you like a book. The baby's fine."

His smile was thin. "Maybe not quite like a book."

"What do you mean?" she asked, shifting slightly, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Are you feeling allright? Do we know for sure that all of this is… supposed to happen?"

A beat passed between them. A smile graced her lips and she stopped the crescent motion on her husband's hand, immediately taking it up and spreading his fingers, splaying his open palm across her rounded belly. His breath hitched as he waited to feel the baby kicking.

Once.

Twice.

He exhaled slowly, looking up at his wife to be met with her lips against is, to quiet him and his fears. "There," she said, when they broke. "See? I'm fine - oh!" The baby gave a particularly hard kick, startling both parents-to-be. Rae laughed; Tracy rubbed his hand over her stomach, eventually coming back to where he began. He felt the unusual flutter in his chest, the stunned awe that accompanied nights like these.

"I can't believe it," he said softly. "Seven months, and I still can't believe it!" he let out a shaky laugh. "A proper family." he breathed. "That's my child." The words tasted sweet and foreign like Ambrosia. "That's my child," he repeated, hearing the unbridled joy in his voice. He looked back up at his wife, shocked to see tears shining in her eyes, a smile on her lips. He reached up, vacating the plane of her stomach, to wipe the water from her eyes, ghosting the curve of her cheek.

After nearly three years, it was so nice to finally have something to celebrate. Tracy kissed her, choking back the joy. He wrapped his arms around her ass gently as possible, holding her as she laud her head on his shoulder. Within moments, her eyes had closed and her breathing had evened out, and she was asleep.

Tracy muttered softly as she slept, telling her that he loved her, that he was happier than he'd ever been, filling her dreams with images of a sunlit nursery, a happy family, and the happy, healthy child that she would bring onto the world. His words slowed, bogged down by sleep, and soon stopped all together, and he leaned his head against hers, drifting off.


	17. Flour

Pregnancy was an odd creature. A week or two ago, her body had plagued her with nausea and morning sickness, had threatened to make her vomit at the mere mention of food. Now, she was constantly hungry. Cravings had started to peek through, though hardly the stereotypical pickles-and-ice cream cravings. Hers would strike at the early hours of the morning, and she'd be out of bed by four, with a jar of oil-cured olives. Tracy often came out in the morning to find an empty olive jar and his wife fast asleep on the couch.

Some of the foods she craved, she never spared a passing glace for before getting pregnant; Tracy _knew_ she hated pears before the pregnancy, but now she suddenly loved them. They always held a few cans of the white-syrup pears in the pantry for her, and she was certainly not one to neglect them.

Tracyhad noticed her change in appetite – to be honest it was rather hard not to. The first time he'd spied her with an unusual food in front of her, he just smiled quietly and thought to himself, '_it begins._'

Tracyhanded her the dish, which she dried off and replaced in the cabinet; a craving had been nagging at her all day, though she hadn't quite been able to pinpoint it, which was rather unusual. Her husband lowered the temperature of the water and ran his hands under the tap, rinsing the soar and suds away as Rae made to close the cabinets. Something caught her eye and she paused, reaching up to pull it down.

She turned the cake pan over in her hands, before she looked up at him. "Why don't we bake?" she asked, "Chocolate cake."

He smiled at her and her unusual impromptu cravings, taking the pan and setting it on the stove. He brought her the necessary ingredients and she mixed them properly, watching the egg and flour and cocoa fuse together and become a sticky, chocolaty brown mess in the bowl. He took it from her once the oven was heated and spooned it all into the pan before placing the mixing bowl in the sink to be dealt with later. He turned back to find Rae opening the oven to put the cake in, and leaned against the counter, crossing his ankles and watching her slide the pan into the oven.

Tracywatched her slide the cake pan in the oven, and dipped his hand back into the flour bag, a sly smile spreading on his lips as he watched her standing back up. Their eyes met, and her gaze gradually traveled down to the handful of flour he'd withdrawn from the bag. She looked back up at him. "You wouldn't dare," she said suspiciously. He cocked and eyebrow.

"What do you mean, luv?" he asked, before tipping his hand forward, watching the flour spill from his palm and cascade over her. She looked down at her pants in shock at the large white spot that had suddenly appeared on her person. She looked back at her husband and he merely smirked down at her. She never broke eye contact, but reached forward and dipped her hand into the bag as well. He looked down at her, playfully challenging her. She cupped her hand, dragging the white powder with her and she hit him square in the chest with the flat of her palm, smashing the white flour between them. She dragged her hand down his chest, leaving a large white smear that contrasted greatly with the medium blue of his shirt.

He looked down at her handiwork as she turned to wipe the flour from her hands, and he took another handful, _throwing_ it, however lightly, at her. It bloomed like a mushroom cloud as it soared towards his wife, settling around her hips and bottom. She craned her neck to see the new stain and laughed at him. "Really?" she asked. He rocked back and forth on his heels.

"No idea what you mean, luv." He said, his voice lilting with a faux-innocence.

She stepped up to him with another scoop of flour and pulled on his collar, dragging him down to her before rubbing the flour across his neck and jaw, letting some sprinkle uncomfortably down his shirt. He wiggled, trying to get used to the odd feeling against his skin, and he saw the look on her face. She was leaning against the counter, now,_daring_ him to one-up her. He waited until she turned again before grabbing her around the waist and holding her to him, keeping her looking away from the counter as he reached back for the bag, grabbing it gently as to not rustle it and lifting it up, and she looked back too late, noticing how he held the bag of flour precariously _over her head_, and down it came, splashing and cascading over her head and shoulders, and she closed her eyes, held her breath against it. It took several second for the bag to empty completely over her, and when the dust finally settled, clinging to her and forming a small pile on the kitchen floor, she just looked up at him in complete shock, the grin never leaving his face.

She stood stock still as the flour came to a settle around her and all her husband could do was laugh, his shoulder shaking as he watched her startled expression. "S'the matter?" he asked, leaning down to her, his hands on her hips.

"Tracy," she said, looking back at him. You just… you just dumped half a bag of _flour_ on my head. What is my reaction _supposed_ to be?" she asked; the man suddenly felt a pang of guilt, that he'd acted a little _too_ rashly and what had seemed funny at the time was only upsetting.

He still smiles, though it wasn't as energetic as it had been moments ago. "Sorry, my love," he crooned, spinning her around and bowing his head to kiss her, tasting the white powder. She dropped her hands down past his waist and grabbed him, leaving two neat handprints on the seat of his pants, laughing as she pulled back. He smiled wryly and tried to wipe the staid from the back of his pants, only succeeding in smearing it. "Now we're even," she said. Tracy could merely laugh as she shook the flour from her hair, watching as it cascaded to join the rest on the floor. They both looked down, seeing the kitchen tile coated in white.

"By Mab," he said, laughing. "We made a mess!"

"We? _We_?!" she nudged him lightly, stooping down and scooping more of the powder from the tile. "Well, as long as the mess has been made…" she lightly dusted his shoes with the flour and he laughed, helping her up from the floor.

"Very true, honeybee," he said, tapping the underside of her opened palms. With the sudden jerking motion, the flour jumped from her hands and onto her shirt.

They paused for a moment before they both ducked to the floor, scooping up as much flour as possible and dodging each other's attacks. Tracy kept a keen eye on her, mildly stunned at the fact that they were now having a flour war, sending fistfuls of the powder flying across the room at each other. The air was thick with the upturned flour, and he was sure it would settle over everything; he didn't care.

More laughter erupted from him as he removed his glasses, wiping his brow on his already whitened sleeve. His wife was a ghostly white-washed image through the haze as she sat across the kitchen, back against one of cabinets, clutching at her rounded belly. The smile fell from Tracy's face, fear for the worst gripping him, turning his insides to ice as he scrambled across the kitchen for her, taking her in his arms at once. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

There was silence between them for a moment at Rae looked up at him. "She kicked." She said, her voice coming forth excitedly. "I felt her kick!" she grabbed her husband's hand and splayed it across her belly. He remained still, barely breathing as he waited.

It was a small flutter that pushed rather violently against his palm, and he laughed, shocked and elated and amazed all at once because that was _his_ daughter. He smiled shakily, feeling her kick again. Rae leaned into him and he kissed her, wiping the flour from her cheek, though it was a pointless endeavor; they were both covered in and inch-thick coating of powder. He took a sweeping look around the room. "Look at that," he said, his voice holding a tint of awe as he rested his head against hers. "Still in the womb as she has to tell us to behave."


	18. Michelle

Tracy's sleek shoes were all but wearing a rut into the cold tiles of the hospital floor as he paced back and forth, wringing his hands together. He hadn't been ready for this, not by a long shot, though he knew the time was coming. It was inevitable, wasn't it? He swallowed the rising panic in his chest as one of the nurses tried to calm him, tried to coax him away from the hospital room wherein his wife lay, distraught and in evident pain, if the sounds coming from the other side of the door were any indication – but he wouldn't budge. He shook the nurse several times before she figured it was a lost cause and offered to get him some aspirin. He accepted gratefully, downing two pills dry before resuming his nervous pacing.

It'd happened during work – he'd been inVictoriaat the time, right in a child's bedroom, when his phone went off, startling the poor thing awake. A quick, heavy dose of amnesia dust and a bit of a clumsy escape later, he was able to answer the call, vexed as he'd ever been, to a stuttering, panicked dispatch fairy. He'd been told that Rae had been taken to the Emergency Room twenty minutes ago, that he really ought to go find her, and that they were dispatching another fairy to finish the assignment.

Of course, Tracy hadn't argued, his heart leaping into his throat as he willed himself back to Fairy Land – forty minutes and one frantic trip to the ward later, he'd found out that the Dispatch fairy had meant a real _hospital_, one on The Human Plane with doctors – human doctors! – that would be examining every inch of his wife. It wasn't an infuriating thought so much as a terrifying one. That sick expectation, the fear of _what if they found something_?

Tracy was never one to worry about that, especially as they lived together in Fairy Land– any small amount of magic her body had accepted or produced of its own accord - _well, not exactly of it's_ own _accord, if he were honest_ – would be considered completely natural. But these doctors didn't understand that, these doctors could end up hurting her. He pleaded with her father, he wanted to do this back _home_, where the doctors wouldn't think something was wrong, wouldn't keep her for any longer than necessary, wouldn't hurt her _or_—

But he'd refused, quite angrily, telling Tracy that this was _his_ daughter, and damned if he was going to whisk her away for this, one of the most crucial moments of her life. He failed to understand that he could come with them, that it would help her, and they were reduced to a shouting match in the middle of the hallway, each furious at the other's stubbornness, neither willing to say too much for fear of what would happen to Rae.

Eventually, two doctors and three nurses came to separate them, putting them in waiting rooms on opposite ends of the hall and demanding that they remain there. Tracy was thrown into a panic at this; he was supposed to stay all the way down here until they came to retrieve him? So far from Rae at such an important time, when she was being hovered over by doctors she'd never met, prodded and examined and in pain? He began to shake, nerves getting the better of him, as they usually did, and he wanted to run back to her, ignore the orders of the hospital staff and just _be with her_, but he knew that they would throw him out, regardless of the fact that he was her husband, the man who—

He began pacing the small waiting room, hands clasped tightly behind his back. So many things could go wrong tonight – could be going wrong right now – and he was at the end of a hall eight or nine rooms down, worried sick and pale as a ghost. He'd never been this nervous in his entire life, save for maybe their wedding night. His breath came quickly and he wiped absently at his mouth and forehead, feeling clammy.

It was hours, gut-wrenching hours, before one of the nurses came into his waiting room, Rae's father flanking her, and they walked back to the room together. Any animosity between the two men was gone, replaced by anxiety and nervous excitement.

They came to her door, and Tracy was the first one in, heart pounding against his ribs. Rae lay there, looking exhausted – she had every right to be! – under the clean white hospital linens. He moved to one side of her, her father to the other, and they each took one of her hands. Her movements were slow and groggy, but she was clearly awake, and as anxious as they were. She gave a slight nod of her head, and Tracylet out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, nearly collapsing on top of her, bowing his head into the crook of her neck and he kissed her. She removed her hand from his and ran it through his hair, telling him that it was okay, her voice hoarse from the strain she'd put on it during the course of the night. Every muscle in her body was sore, and she let him hold her, never feeling more comfortable in her life. She laughed lightly and looked over at her father. He kissed her forehead, telling her he was going to check the ward and go home, leave them together, though she could tell in his face that he didn't want to leave her, not now, at a time like this. She loved her father, so, _so_ much, but she was happy to finally be alone with Tracy.

This was an intimate moment – one that would not be ruined by her father's presence, but the night, and the many days to come afterwards, would be made all the more special if she saw him later, surprised him along with the rest of the 's own family couldn't be there – a fairy family, his winged father in a human hospital – and Rae's father understood that there would be a time and place for seeing his daughter.

Rae was tired, and it would be another forty five minutes or so before the doctors came back. She pulled Tracy closer and rested against him. He was so much more comfortable than the stark white pillows and the crisp linen, the rustle of the bed she lay in. He was_hers_, and he was _familiar. _And in the chaos of the night, the pain and the fear and the overwhelming joy, he was constant, and always would be.

She drifted into a light sleep resting against him, too scared and excited to fall into a true rest. Her sat next to her, supporting her frame as her eyes closed and her breathing evened out. He leaned over and kissed the crown of her head as she drifted off.

Even after the nights they spent together, bodies pressed up against one another, entwined and passionate, lines blurring in bliss,Tracy couldn't think of a better way to spend the night than like this.

Rae woke with a start, the exhaustion ebbed enough for her to be aware of her surroundings the moment she awoke – Tracy whispering softly in her ear as the nurse came back into the room, a little pink bundle in his arms, and Rae felt the tears push behind her eyes and flow freely as he placed the small blanket in her arms. She cradled it gently, it was so fragile, and she looked down into the tiny, still face of her daughter.

_Their_ daughter.

Tracy bent over her, the both of them, in complete awe. He crooned her name, "Michelle," in a soft, wavering voice as he reached a trembling hand out and brushed the thin pink blanket away from the baby's face, watching as she twitched in her sleep. She wouldn't open her eyes for some time, but Rae hoped beyond hope that she would have the same startling aqua eyes as her father. She looked over, craning her neck to peck him on the cheek as the doctor came in, shuffling papers and readying to take Rae's vitals.

When he was finished, broken of his concentration, he looked up at the new parents and heaved a sigh. It wasn't one of particularly bad indication, but it sounded more somber than either was comfortable with.

Tracy was hesitant to look up at him, half afraid that the beautiful little girl in his wife's arms would disappear if he looked away. He tore his gaze from her and settled it on the doctor who, seeing that he now had both their attentions, went on to explain the predicament. "Well, there weren't any complications with the birth, you've got yourself a beautiful, healthy baby, but we _did_ manage to find something unusual."Tracy blanched as the doctor pinned x-rays of Michelle's tiny frame onto the light board. "If you see here, this is her spine, and here are her shoulder blades. Right here, at the edge of the spine, we could feel unusual lumps. You can see them here, one on each side." He pointed, and the new parents could in fact see two irregular protrusions on the child's x-ray, right between her spine and her shoulder blades.

The doctor continued: "Now, it's a fairly uncommon birth defect, but it's definitely been seen before. It shouldn't impair her development any, and it shouldn't even be visible – the only reason we caught it was because one of the nurses felt it. She'll be fine, but if she starts getting pain, maybe when she's around seven or eight, it'd be a good idea to have her looked at." He paused, taking the pictures down and storing them in a file. "But, like I said – you've got a happy, healthy baby, and once we see she's eating, your new family can go home." He placed the folder, a clipboard and several other loose papers under the crook of his arm. "I'll be back in about an hour. For now, I'm sure you're both exhausted – good thing you're in a hospital," he said to Tracy, "I heard you almost had a coronary in the waiting room." He laughed and left the new family to their own.

"Tracy…" Rae started, cradling Michelle. "Two protrusion… at the base of either shoulder blade."

Her husband stuttered, trying to find his voice. "Do – There's… Rae. Do you know what this is, what this means?" he asked, in a hushed mixture of awe and excitement.

She smiled up at him, almost unable to believe it herself. "Wings," she breathed


	19. Growing Up: Michelle

The house was dark, but the sound resonated throughout. It was a shrill noise that drowned out all others, a frantic sound that neither parent could cease; underneath it was the sound of the microwave as it heated a bottle, and Tracy's own voice, quietly hushing his daughter as he rocked her back and forth, one hand supporting her small head as she rested on the length of his arm, and the other beneath her. With each shrill cry came a new pang of anxiety – she'd been going on like this for the last two hours, since three in the morning. She'd awoken in the nursery and had scared both parents out of their fitful sleep. At first they'd been as calm as they would ever be – completely rational and in no way frightened by their daughter's antics. But that had been two hours ago; since then they'd tried everything – this was the second time they'd tried feeding her, they'd changed her, tried burping her, but nothing they did calmed their daughter's passion.

He lifted her and placed a kiss to her forehead, muttering senselessly that it was okay as Rae came out of the kitchen with a lukewarm bottle. Whenever the nipple was placed at Michelle's lips, she'd scream again and turn her head, unwilling to eat or, perhaps, not hungry. She looked up at her husband, bedraggled as he was, with dark circles under his eyes, and she took Michelle from her husband's arms, cradling her in her own and trying to feed her. She rejected the bottle every time Rae tried to press it between her lips, her face scrunched up and angry or upset or scared, but neither parent could figure out which.

Tracymoved to his wife and tried to calm their daughter, but she wasn't paying either of them much attention. They brought her back into the nursery and lay her in the the baby gently and looked down at her, tired and worried, and began to whisper.

"You spotted snakes with double tongue,

Thorny hedge-hogs, be not seen;

Newts, and blind-worms, do no wrong;

Come not near our fairy queen."

Rae was rather surprised to hear him muttering, with a faint music inflection to his voice, the verses of Shakespeare's Fairy Lullaby. She'd studied it in college, in her British Literature classes, but she'd never given it much thought, Shakespeare's uncanny connection with the supernatural. Now, she found herself wondering how much of Shakespeare's tales and fantasies had been derived from truth.

"My Michelle, with melody,

Sing in our sweet lullaby;

Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby,"

The tiny faeid looked up at her father, cries softening by half a decibel as she took in the soft spoken lullaby. It seemed to have an affect on her, her shrill protests calming, uncertain in their frequency and conviction, her voice weakening and before long she was merely hiccupping, looking with wide eyes up at her father, who smiled down at her, continuing to rock the cradle gently until his daughter lost focus, eyes struggling to stay open as she was mesmerized by the steady motion and the sound of her father's voice.

"Never harm,

Nor spell, nor charm,

Come our lovely lady nigh;

So, good night, with lullaby."

They remained at their daughter's bedside long after her eyes had closed, the weary parents standing guard over her and rocking the bassinet slowly until they were _sure_ that she was sound asleep.

Tracylet the cradle come to a gentle rest, stopping of its own accord, before he hooked an arm around his wife's waist and led her back to bed.

She lay down with him, tired and warm in his arms, and she looked up at him and whispered: "How did you do that?"

He merely chuckled and moved his mouth to her ear, holding her there as they both sank into the comfort of the bed and each other, slowly being pulled back to sleep, and he muttered, "How do you think my mam got _me_ to sleep?"

—

Holidays were peculiar. The first year or so had been confusing; neither knew what was celebrated. When Lu'Leas Be Tselares passed, Rae had found herself in a stupor of celebration, and Tracy had calmly explained to her that it was a fairy holiday – put quite simply, Day of the Suns. In FairyLand, many things had changed to accustom time, but the names of their holidays, most cherished days, remained in the Old Elvish used millennias ago. There was nothing inherently _wrong_ or _unusual_ about the celebration, she was merely not accustomed to it. They'd gone to visit his family during Guld Fethel, and she'd been received warmly despite her lack of knowledge.

On the reverse,Tracyoften went with Rae to The Human Plane, to celebrate holidays with her family. Things like Thanksgiving and New Year's Eve he understood perfectly well, but Christmas and Easter took some explaining, as fairies did not glorify a Deity, per say, as opposed to a physical entity.

But despite their blatant ignorance in each other's worlds, they enjoyed themselves. Tracy enjoyed hearing The Manger Story, delving so far back into human history as to explain such a major part of their modern culture; Rae found the pseudo-sacrificial rites of Guld Fethel intriguing, and was more than happy to learn a thing or two about her husband's culture.

After Michelle was born, things only became more interesting during the holidays. InFairyLand, it was never so much of a problem. The air was tingling with magic there, and one fussy child's outburst wasn't sufficient to drastically spike the levels. Oftentimes, if Michelle, as an infant, would get upset during dinner or celebration, it was of little consequence and she was easily calmed by any one of the family – Diana andTracy's mother, Mab, were particularly good at calming Michelle. Often they'd include the little girl in the night's events, passing her from relative to relative and drawing a symbol on her with their finger, before she was returned to her parents. It was all very sweet, their way of blessing the child, Rae supposed, and Michelle didn't seem to mind it any.

But that was inFairyLand. The Human Plane was a much different surprised at the vast spectrum of atmosphere one evening could have. One minute they were all laughing and enjoying one another's company, the next the whole room went quiet around the table.

Tracy felt not a little out of place as prayer happened, but he just smiled, folded his hands and waited patiently, listening an understanding, in the end, what it was meant for.

Christmas Dinner began, the table mingling with one another over the food. It was all rich, heavy foods, much unlike the food made for celebration at home. There was thick sauces and a based bird, and fatigue overtook Tracy early into the meal. It was an unusual experience, and one that seemed to be shared by the rest of the diners (this settled the slight alarm), and he was confident he would have nodded off had Michelle not started crying. It startled him fully awake and he bolted from his seat and moved to her, lifting her from the bassinet and cradled her. "Oh, you are fussy, aren't you?" he crooned.

Rae excused herself and went to make a bottle for her bounced her and moved into the kitchen with his wife. Michelle was unhappy, face scrunched up in displeasure and crying with force.

There was the sound of breaking glass and a surprised yelp from the next room. He looked over his shoulder and saw Rae's older sister mopping liquid off the table. His heart sank. "Rae, if we can't quite Michelle soon, we _may_ have a problem." He said, quietly, peering into the dining room. The moment those words were out of his mouth, Michelle took another deep breath ad let out another shrieking cry.

The brown gravy in the boat began to bubbly over violently before off with the rest of Rae's family, clutching his daughter to him protectively

What was left of the bird flew to bits, leaving behind a carcass that was gently rocking from the force of the explosion. Another scream, some shouts.

He turned on his heel and made a bee line for the door.

Fairies were born magical. That is to say, they depended on magic in their bodies to live. Just as humans needed blood and oxygen to survive, fairies needed blood, oxygen and _magic_, which made certain situations more dangerous for them than for humans. Still, it wasn't as if they had any shortage of it. As magical beings, their bodies were constantly producing it, keeping it flowing in their systems. However, not unlike baby snakes, whose venom is at full potency at birth, but they do not know how to control it, nor did fairy infants. Their bodies often overflowed with magic – some more than others – and this made them all the more precarious to deal with. Their magic would pour from them like electricity, latching on to whatever it could and wreaking havoc in unexpected ways. Here, it seemed Michelle's magic had favored the dining table.

Two more glasses exploded andTracyheard the fire alarm in the house go off before he made it safely out of the house. Any extreme emotion experienced by a fairy child could influence such disasters, and have often been known to cause serious injury or worse. He doubted his daughter could manage much with a turkey and some glasses, but if her magic found the carving knife, things could go very wrong indeed.

He paced her back and forth in the crisp December air. Winters inMesararely reached above fifty degrees Fahrenheit, or so he was told and, while it wasn't warm out, per say, it was warm enough for the baby to be out there. Besides, he thought dismally, keeping her in there would probably end the night in a trip to the hospital.

He kept at it, bouncing her and patting her and crooning to her in hopes of calming her down. Nothing seemed to work, until Rae came out with a warm bottle. He took it from her and pressed it to her lips. Her cries persisted until she realized that she was being fed, until the plastic nipple was in her mouth and she was suckling the bottle. She calmed in increments until she was quietly feeding, content as if nothing had happened. He laughed nervously at his daughter. "We're going to have to teach you how to control that," he said quietly, so the rest of the family, who had begun to join him and his wife in the front of the house, wouldn't hear him. "You nearly gave your aunt Katie a heart attack with that little stunt." As he was looking down at her, his glasses slip off the bridge of his nose, covering his mouth and making him sputter slightly.

Almost immediately, Michelle released the bottle, her mouth stretching into a open smile and she laughed, a gurgling, bubbly, infectious laugh.

"Oh, now you're laughing?" he asked, lowering his head to her cheek and making the same sputtering noises. She shrieked again, this time with laughter.

From behind him he heard a hushed "Oh my God!"

He looked up in alarm, fearing that Michelle's emotional rampage wasn't over. Little flecks of white spotted his glasses, descending from the sky and blanketing everything they touched, refusing to disintegrate and creating a fine white blanket of snow across everything.

"It's _snowing_, in _Mesa_!" Rae's brother exclaimed, spinning his fiancée in the inclement weather.

Rae came up and kissed her daughter, who was only laughing harder for the strange flecks of snow falling from above. "Merry Christmas to you too," she said quietly.

—

It was late. The twin suns had set hours ago, and Michelle sat in the kitchen, at the table, coloring. Rae had rearranged her work schedule so that she could be home and look after her daughter: When Shell went to school, Rae would go to work. Things were chaotic around the house for quite some time but, as always, they made it work.

The woman missedTracy– he wasn't home very often, anymore. He'd begun taking overtime, trying to fill the need for Tooth Fairies on extra assignments. He got home around nine, ten o clock on a normal night, and left at six the next morning.

"Mommy, when's daddy coming home?" the little girl asked, shuffling sheets of paper to find a blank canvas.

"Soon, Shell. But—" Rae took the crayons from her and scooped the little girl up in her arms. "For you, it's bed time." She crooned.

Michelle whined, whishing to stay up until her father returned, but even as Rae carried her back to her own bedroom, the nursery that had been slowly modified for their growing daughter, the girl began to doze off, head resting against her mother's shoulder.

"Daddy's always home by now," she said sleepily. "What if he's not coming home?"

Rae lay her daughter to sleep, tucking her in and kissing her forehead. "Of course he's coming home. You'll see him in the morning. Goodnight, Shell."

"Goodnight, mommy."

She shut her daughter's door, standing out in the hall for a be home soon.

Why hadn't he called?

She shook herself and returned to the kitchen to clean up Michelle's impromptu art project, glancing up at the clock every so often. The hands crawled around the rim of the time piece, every minute that passed by only worrying her more. Abandoning all reservation, she plucked the phone from its cradle and punched in his number.

It rang, the noise loud and painful in her ear after such still silence. She waited patiently for him to pick it up, one hand holing the phone to her ear, the other clutching nervously at her elbow.

It rang again, and again, and after every right there was a pause, a space of silence that she was so sure was going to be filled by his voice.

It rang again – his voice never came. Instead, she was greeted by a cold, electronic voice that told her to leave a message. She grimaced and hung up. She wanted to talk to _him_, not his machine.

Rae replaced the phone, settling on the couch and flicking on the lamp on the table next to her. She curled up on the couch, hugging her knees and tucking her feet underneath her.

The hours passed; she hoped he'd come home soon.

It was five in the morning. The front door opened with the softest click andTracyslipped in, unbuttoning his cuffs and undoing his tie as he moved into the house.

He came to a pause halfway to his bedroom, his hear pounding in his chest and the adrenaline pumping through him, shocking him awake as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement in the dark.

He spun to face it, the fear that boiled in his blood cooling drastically the moment he heard her muffled sigh.

As the fear ebbed, the feeling was replaced by a slight somberness. Poor Rae, who had sat up for him, expecting him home and moment – meanwhile, it'd taken him hours to get off of work. The blanket was bunched loosely in her fists, and he moved to her, crouching own in front of her and removing the fabric from her grip. He slid one arm beneath the crook of her knees, the other supporting her back as he lifted her from the couch, moving carefully through the living room and to their bed.

He laid her down and gently tugged the sheets from beneath her, pulling them all the way back before laying them gently over her form. When she was safely tuckered away, he removed his shoes and his vest and undid the top few buttons on his shirt before crawling in next to her, burying himself under the covers.

He watched her sleeping face for a moment before closing his eyes and drifting off, exhausted after such a hectic night.

Rae shuffled, pulling the covers closer around her shoulders. The bed was warm and soft and she sighed deeply.

Her mind was muddled with sleep, and it took her a moment to realize that she had fallen asleep on the _couch_.

She opened her eyes, seeing the edge of her bed, the light cream colored sheets, the bed stand and the while washed wall opposite her.

She frowned slightly and turned over, twisting herself in the covers in the process, to come face to face with Tracy, who was snuggled close to her and had, she realized, a hand on her hip.

He opened his eyes, realizing that he was a wake and he smiled tiredly. "M'sorry, luv," he muttered, running his had up and down her side. "Didn't mean to worry you, last night," he leaned forward to kiss her.

"Where were you?" she asked, when they broke. "I called and—"

"I know. I wanted to call back but by the time I got out of the assignment, it was already one." He held her closer.

The door opened, and Michelle came bounding in, crawled onto the bed. "Hi daddy!" she bubbled, plopping own on him, knocking the wind from him with an 'oof!' before she laughed.

"Hello, flower!" he said, grabbing her tiny hands and kissing them.

"I'm glad you're home."

"Oh," he groaned, still fighting off sleep. "Me too. All day, as it happens!" Michelle lit up. It was a rare occasion forTracyto be off on a weekend, when his girls were. He moved Michelle off of his stomach, laying her between her parents. "And I think," he said, "that we'll take today and go out. How about The Waters?" he looked at his wife, smiling, then back to his daughter. "How's that sound? Yeah?"

Michelle laughed and threw her arm over him in an attempt at a hug.

Rae smiled and sat up, pulling her daughter off ofTracy. "Sounds like a wonderful idea," she said.

—

Tracy and Rae stood in the garden archway, watching Michelle as she ran through the crowd of children, seeking the few friends she'd made, other children who lived near them. Parents crowded in a messy crescent around the outside of the garden, chatting with one another and pointing out which children were theirs. She leaned back against her husband and smiled – it was Shell's first day of school. He ran his fingers though her hair as they watched. Their little girl was almost six, dirty blonde and striking eyes, blue as the clearest water and flecked with gold. With her small frame and pixie-like face, Rae could see the Human perception of fairies reflected in her daughter.

Fairy education was much different that the schooling that Rae had grown up with: Michelle would be taught in regular classes up to a fifth grade level, but after that, what humans would consider core curriculum became scarce in the child's learning. Instead, the academy focused more on training. The classes were geared more towards physical training and developing knowledge of the tools used by Tooth Fairies. Rae would take it upon herself to teach Michelle about her second home, The Human plane, but for now she watched her little girl run off to school for the first time.

Shell looked over her shoulder at her parents and immediately came running back, realizing that other children's folks were leaving, failing to take the little ones with them. Her tiny legs carried her as fast as she could go and for a split second, it looked as if she were truly flying. Of course, her wings wouldn't grow in for another few years –Tracyhad promised her that the issues involved with rearing a little girl who had wings would be easily resolved. He did, after all, grow up with two winged sisters, both younger. He reassured her constantly that they would be able to take care of her, proper parents, don't worry yourself, that's the last thing you need.

Rae stooped as Michelle came running, throwing her tiny arms around her mother's neck and looking up at her father until he joined them on the ground, wrapping his unusually long arms around the both of them.

"You go find a seat," Rae whispered to her daughter. "You're going to have lots of fun, okay?" She could feel Shell's little hands tighten in her hair, not wanting to let go. EventuallyTracyremoved her from around his wife and picked her up, kissing her on the cheek before carrying her to the archway and setting her down in the crowd. She waved to her mother once and hugged her father's leg before running off to join her class.

Both parents hoped she'd make some good friends in that class – she would be with the same people until graduation, andTracy, of all people, knew what it was like to dislike your back to Rae, to see her jaw set, lips pressed together and a hand at her mouth. Her eyes were watery and he could tell she was trying her best. He moved around behind her and smiled, leaning down to whisper into her ear. "She's growing up, Rae. It'll be allright."

She sniffled and nodded. "All my life, I wondered why moms cry on their kid's first day of school." She said, her voice higher than usual. "Now I get it."

He kissed her cheek, snaking his arms around her and running his hands over the curve of her rounded belly. "You should get used to it; you're going to have to do it again, soon." He teased.


	20. Christmas Spirit

Tracy loved the human holidays.

It was the most unusual experience for him, to begin celebrating things like Easter for the first time in nearly four hundred years with Rae and her family, but it was intriguing as well. He loved participating in the odd festivities and spending time with the family. They were more than welcoming of him, even after the nervous habits he adopted after his last stay on The Human Plane. They made sure they were careful around him, and knew to take it slow, tried their hardest to make him feel safe and normal.

Of course, this behaviour died down over the course of a few years. He gradually became more and more comfortable, less jumpy and less paranoid.

By the time Michelle was born, the frantic demeanour had all but disappeared. He was able to go back to The Human Plane. Sure, it evoked unpleasant memories, things he would have preferred to leave in the dank cellars of his mind, to rot in forgetfulness, but he pushed those thoughts aside, fought them constantly when they reared their angry heads.

Of course, they continued to celebrate Christmas every year, though they eventually stopped going to Rae's world to celebrate. Her family was taken from her, after four or five decades, and neither saw the need to go back to The Human Plane, especially once Michelle's wings came in. They saw it as too much of a risk. While He, Rae and baby Lucas were all wingless, Tracy wasn't willing to put his daughter in such danger.

But time passed, nearly twenty years since her wings came in, and he could tell that his wife was getting a little homesick, longing for the traditional feeling of Christmas from her time on the Human Plane. The winter months there would get cold, where as, in Fairy Land, winter was virtually non-existent. She longed, perhaps not for snow, but for the opportunity to experience Christmas in the atmosphere she grew up in, where she cherished the holiday, where it truly meant something.

He waged an internal war when a co worker, a wingless fairy like himself, who could get easily around on the Human Plane without discrimination or fear, told him about the Ice show that stationed itself in his wife's home town every year. He and his fiancée were going to go, and he suggested it might be nice, to take the kids to see real snow! Tracy wondered why Rae had never mentioned it. She shared so many fond memories of her time with her family, and it was almost a shock to him that she'd left out the annual Ice show. After some reasoning, he deducted that she'd pointedly avoided mentioning the show to keep him from doing exactly what he was doing then. Still, he didn't mention it to Rae until he had decided, until he was absolutely sure that his decision was plausible, that - yes - they were going.

—-

It was a wonderful bout of nostalgia for Rae, to be back home, in the cold weather after such a long time of constant spring. The Ice show was a good twenty below freezing, and Michelle had been completely enamoured by the way her breath became visible in the cold air. Still, the cold was a tricky thing to master, as it was a sharp, dry cold. It had turned out that the little girl's mittens were far too big for her, falling off of her hands on more than once occasion; Tracy had taken Lucas to get Michelle a smaller pair.

The exhibit itself was massive, separated into several rooms, each themed differently. The one they happened to be standing in was a spectacular ice-recreation of a downtown park, with tall, slim lamp posts that reflected the light around them, a bench or two that was rather too cold to sit on properly, and an ice skating rink in the middle of the room, the barrier of which was one of the only structures in the room that was not sculpted of ice.

Rae leaned against the wall separating the ice rink from the walk. "I used to love coming here, every year my mom and dad would take me, and we'd skate together. How about it? Let's find daddy and we can all -" The woman looked down, her stomach dropping into oblivion "Michelle?" she called, her voice materializing in front of her in her panic. She spun, gaze sweeping across the confines of the tent. "Michelle!"

There was no answer. Her heart pounded in her chest as she spied her husband, ducking back into the temperature-regulated tent with Lucas and a smaller pair of mittens for the little girl who was nowhere to be found. "Tracy! Tracy, she's gone!" she cried. "Michelle!"

The man gave a start, his blood running colder than the ice. Everything ached at once as fear coursed its way through him; scars that hadn't hurt in years suddenly burned against his skin as he thought of her, alone _here_ of all places, young and vulnerable. He grabbed hold of his wife, trying to stabilize both of them at the same time. Shimmering tears appeared at the edges of her eyes and formed thin tracks of ice on her flushed cheeks as they fell. "We'll find her; I'll get the security." he placed a kiss at her forehead, forced and frantic, before handing their son to her and shooting off, thankful for his tall frame as he was able to see over the crowd, able to search for his daughter. The heavy yellow parkas that everyone wore did not help matters - it made each person indistinguishable from the next, but she was his daughter for Mab's sake. He'd know. He would know.

There were exclamations of annoyance and shouts of anger as he pushed his way through the crowd. He laid one hand on a man's shoulder to ease him out of the way and hissed, drawing back, stumbling and clutching at his open palm. Sitting in the middle of his palm was a neat red dot, a burn on his skin. And iron burn. Wide eyes flickered to the man's parka, which had two large metal clasps holding the collar down to each shoulder. Every parka had them, even his own. When the realization hit, he quickly shed the garment, burning skin the only thing protecting him from the below freezing temperatures within the exhibition.

"Hey, buddy, you allright?" he heard. His gaze snapped from the shed coat on the ground to the man he'd tried to move from his path. He didn't respond - perhaps he couldn't, he didn't think to try - but merely chose a safer spot on the parka to take a grip on, and pushed past him and his girlfriend. His breathing picked up as the burning sensation on his palm remained. She had to be safe. They had to find her, because she was a Faeid, and would be ruined in this world. He had to protect her.

—-

Michelle had been swept away by the torrents of people who had exited the rink. They'd pushed and shoved and nearly trampled her out of their way, with them, and before she knew it she was away from her mother, an ever-increasing sea of people separating them. She tried to step around them, to get a better view of her mother, but every move she made only seemed to drag her further away, like a rip tide. Rae disappeared into the scores of people, an identical yellow-clad figure among dozens and dozens.

Michelle panicked. Almost instantly, she cried out for her mother, her tiny, shy voice lost under the din of Christmas music and the ambient noise of the people. She knew a hopeless cause when she saw one, and turned to exit the tent, to find her father. She knew he'd left only moments ago to switch out the gloves. She pushed past the heavy plastic drape of the tent and was dismayed to find another sea of yellow figures, all tromping about nearly identical to one another and very confusing, as she was so tiny, and they seemed to tower over her. Not in the way her parents did - these figures towered over her maliciously, purposefully hiding her from her parents, and vice versa.

Her vision became clouded by tears of distress, and her voice lowered, coming out in a choked whine as she spun around, looking desperately for her parents. The blush rose to her cheeks as she became too warm with the parka on.

She took three steps, not truly watching where she was going, but trying to watch the faces of the adults who passed her, hoping one of them would be familiar, and ran into someone, tumbling in a heap at their feet. She fought to untangle herself and run away, but there was soon a pair of hands on her shoulders, trying to pry the parka away from her small body, and she refused, flattening her wings against her back and trying to get away.

The strain became too great, the pain in her back blossoming. Daddy had told her that it was possible to retract her wings, he'd told her that sometimes it might be necessary, especially when here, in Mommy's world. But he'd told her that it could be dangerous, if done for too long. He told her not to do it unless she absolutely had to.

She had to.

The person picked her up, and she could tell it was not either of her parents - it just felt wrong - and rested the young girl on the hip, taking to unbuttoning the parka. Michelle stopped struggling, unable to, for the heat of the coat and the pain in her back caused her to slump forward, resting her cheek against the adult's shoulder, breathing heavily. A hand ran up and down her spine in a comforting sort of gesture, but retreated quickly upon feeling the odd protrusion of the girl's wings.

Michelle fell asleep.

—-

She was taken into the lady's restroom in the building, where the woman made sure that there was no one else in the room before locking the door and leaning against the sink counter, cradling the young girl. It had been an accident - she'd merely meant to help a little lost girl find her parents. What she hadn't expected to find was a fairy.

She'd always believed in fairy tales - stories of the fantastic and the supernatural, of things that no one else believed in. She'd always believed they they were around without anyone knowing, and this seemingly young child was proof.

She removed the fairy's parka carefully, watching as her wings sprang forth, beautiful purple gossamer wings that, for all their majesty, did not seem as if they would very well support the fairy's frame in flight. This was a curious thing, for what was the point of wings if not to fly? Of course, she was working under the assumption that Michelle was not a child, but an adult that only looked like a child - a concept not uncommon in the human's perception of fairies.

At any length, she knew that she had to get the little fairy out of there - a public place, with so many to be frightened or resentful, was no place for her, where she could be hurt so easily. At the very least, until she came to, Jennifer would take the responsibility of the winged girl unto herself; she would protect her.

She removed her own parka and her jacket, draping it over the girl's shoulders to conceal the wings to an acceptable degree, and took up the two yellow parkas, intending to return them to the front desk and bring the poor fairy home, where she would give it time to recover from the shock, let her know she was safe and help her find her way home.

—-

Rae began shaking. It had been a half an hour at least since Michelle had gone missing. Tracy was off trying to find her, and the crowd was growing steadily as the day outside became hotter and hotter. She ran through the crowds, calling her daughter's name to no avail. Though she did not know it, Michelle was long gone, heading at some fifty miles per hour into the heart of Mesa, where Jennifer lived.

There was a shout from the crowd, and the sudden, familiar feeling of Tracy's arms around her, her cheek pressed to his chest. She could feel him trembling as well and knew that he was terrified. For her to be so scared for her child, yet for him to know first hand what could happen to her here, was overwhelming for the both of them. The state of the other was enough to tell each that she was no where to be found. They remained for the rest of the night, watching the crowd thin, each human leaving and clearing the room. They remained until everyone was gone, until nine o clock when the building closed and the lights were turned off until the next morning. They remained on the steps of the place, not knowing what to do next but hold each other and try to let the other know that it would be okay, that they would find her, that she would be allright.

They both knew they were lying.

—-

Michelle woke up some hours later, much after it had gotten dark out. She was comfortable, though cautious of her surroundings. This place, this house was not familiar, and with the slow dread of realization, she recalled what had happened at the centre. Clutching the covers, she began to worry, to become fearful of the warm house she found herself in. Her eyes were wide as she tossed the blanket back, swinging her legs over the side of the couch and sitting upright, glancing around the room to come face to face with the woman who stood in the doorway directly in front of her.

Michelle's wings flapped absently, preparing for a flight attempt so that she could escape at a moment's notice. She may have been young, but Michelle was not dumb by any means. She knew that this was dangerous. She'd been told about how humans would be, how they wouldn't know how to react, so would be violent and mean instead. She knew that her wings, her heritage was dangerous, and she knew that this woman, standing in front of her, was as well.

Jennifer clearly saw the fear in the fairy's eyes. She smile gently, taking a deep breath. "I'm not going to hurt you. Are you feeling better?" she asked, hoping to elicit a response from the girl. A simple nod of the head. "That's good," she responded. "Mind if I come sit down?" Michelle thought for a moment, then nodded her head, allowing the woman to enter her own living room and sit next to her. She noticed how the woman didn't seem to want to take her eyes off her wings, and became distressed, fidgeting uncomfortably and batting her wings, a natural reflex that was a clear sign that she needed space.

Jennifer knew the signs and meanings, if only from birds. It was an instinct, she was sure - the little fairy probably had no idea she was doing it, but she would respect the needs of the fae all the same. She scooted backwards, towards the opposite end of the couch, and the girl seemed confused by this. Jennifer gave another smile. "So," she said, hoping that her voice was gentle enough, not betrayed by the excitement she felt. "You're a long way from home, aren't you?"

—-

They remained on The Human Plane that night. They didn't let go of one another all night, even if it was as little contact as a hand on the knee. They needed it, to know that the other was there, to know that they each still had their anchor and, as long as they had that, they would be allright. They would _find her_. They lay in bed together after lying Lucas down to sleep, as close as possible, neither saying a word. They had to wait - that was all that was left to do, they'd been told. Neither parent accepted that as an answer. They wanted their little girl back, but there was nothing to do in the dead of night but lie awake and pray that she was safe.

Tracy rubbed his hand along the curve of his wife's back, trying to comfort her into a sleep - in the end, it was a fitful one, but one all the same, and that's what mattered to him. He was resigned to lie there awake until exhaustion blanketed his body. He knew he would not be able to fall asleep unless it was because he couldn't stay awake any longer. Too many things were running around his mind for him to rest, too many memories, nightmares of his time held captive that, no matter how hard he tried to forget, to tell himself that it was long over and that he was safe, remained, burned in the forefront of his mind like the old iron burn that remained on his stomach.

His little girl was in danger because of what she was, more than he ever was because of her wings. If someone had found her before them, would they treat her kindly, despite the wings, despite her inhumanity? Of course not. He dreaded to think what would happen to her if someone found her, and tried to put it from his mind, but every time he closed his eyes he saw ghostly images of larger men dragging her away in restraints, oblivious to her pleas, the cried of a child as they forced her into submission with any number of things. Tracy knew that it would not take much to have her behave - a stern talking to was the most either parent had ever needed - but these people did not, and fear and misunderstanding makes people do rash things.

He turned over, away from his wife, and tried to curl in on himself. What was the alternative? To have Michelle still wandering, terrified and just as susceptible to harm. He wanted her to be safe, he wanted her to be back with them.

The smallest of noises passed his lips as he shuddered, curling tighter and moaning. There was movement from behind him, and he froze, fearful now that he'd woken Rae up. He held his breath and prayed that she would go back to sleep.

There was a hand brushing at the side of his face, running through his hair. "We'll find her, safe and sound." he heard, and he turned over to face her, taking her into his arms and holding her; she was forever reassuring, and he took comfort in her warmth, her solidity, and fell asleep.

—-

Jennifer came back into the living room with two steaming mugs, sitting down next to the child and handing her a cup. "How's that?" she asked, as the young girl took a sip. She was surprised to hear that the fairy had more or less of a normal diet - subconsciously, she'd been under the impression that fairies lived off of something odd, like cream or flower nectar, the latter of which she felt a slight embarrassment for thinking. It was obvious just by the fairy's size that she did not live off of flower nectar. The fact that, upon being asked, the girl had requested tea, struck Jennifer as odd, but she obliged nonetheless. The fairy had explained that her parents made tea all the time, and it was a common beverage around their house.

At the mention of a house, Jennifer's mind automatically conjured an image of a small home constructed from toadstools and leaves. This was perhaps more ridiculous than the notion of her diet.

The girl nodded and thanked Jennifer, but otherwise seemed very reserved. Of course, she had every right to be, having been so far from home, wherever that may be, and largely in a world that could mean her death if she weren't careful. She quietly reassured the fairy that she was safe here, and asked her name.

Her wings beat gently as she muttered her name, too afraid of her human host to object. "Michelle."

"Michelle," the woman repeated. "That's lovely. I'm Jennifer." she offered, "What are you doing all the way in Mesa?"

She stared into her cup before answering. "Mum used to live here. She and daddy took me to see the ice. We don't get winter where we live."

"Where's that?" he asked. This was the first time that the notion of Michelle being a child crossed the woman's mind.

Michelle shifted uncomfortably. "Fairy Land. It's not around here. You have to do magic to get there and it's really hard."

Jennifer nodded. "I'm sure it is." she said, a subtle dread creeping over her. She'd taken the girl from the ice show, thinking that she was an adult fairy, in need of help and home, not a child whose parents were in the self same building! Her stomach somersaulted inside of her, and she set her mug on the little glass table at her side. "I'll tell you what. I'm sure your parents are very worried, but it's very late. How about we call them in the morning. Do you know your parents' number?" Michelle thought hard; she'd learned her mother's number not too long ago, and could recall it easily, but her mind was clouded by fear and fatigue, and she pressed her lips together, her face scrunched up. "That's okay. We'll think of it in the morning. You can come with me, if you'd like. There's an extra bedroom upstairs. The couch can't be too comfortable, with your wings. Come on." she took the little girl's hand and led her up the stairs, to a closed white door.

Inside was a bedroom not unlike her own back in Fairy Land. the walls were a soft pink, and all around were shelves of figurines, little fairies that sat happily on toadstools or danced around a daisy. Michelle couldn't help but smile at the little dryad statues; it was almost like a part of home.

The bed itself was comfortable, but cold and stiff, as if no one had laid in in for some time. The feeling drove shivers down the girl's spine, but the feeling gradually passed as she lie down herself to sleep.

—-

Rae woke to Tracy, the next morning, a grim frown set on his lips and his striking aqua eyes under set by dark circles. He raised a hand to her cheek, thumbing away the tears that had slipped down her face upon waking, shed in her sleep. Each could see the night that the other had had, desperate and fearful and unable to rest.

He threw and arm over her and held her closer, ducking his head into the crook of her shoulder and stroking her hair, trying to comfort her.

From the table on the other side of the hotel room, the phone in Rae's purse rang.

—-

Jennifer had woken Michelle up early, telling her that they were going to call her parents now, that she was going to go home safe.

The number had rung twice before a man had picked it up, and the tone of his voice was enough to tell the woman that it was the right number.

She'd thanked him and turned to look at Michelle, who was sitting across from her with a bowl of cereal and a spoon clutched in her tiny hand, and winked at the girl, letting her know that she would talk to her parents soon.

The woman, Rae, was choking back tears. Jennifer could hear it in her voice, even over the phone. She apologized to the distraught mother for taking her child from the convention centre, she didn't know.

Rae wasn't sure what to feel towards the woman. There was seething anger that she'd taken Michelle, but there was gratefulness that she'd kept the child safe, only having taken her with good intentions.

"I do know, however, about your daughter's… uhm… Michelle's wings."

Rae swallowed hard, glancing fearfully at her husband, who was currently getting dressed, readying to go get his daughter. This is what he'd been afraid of. This is why he'd protested bringing her to the Ice show, because he was afraid that someone would know, that they would try to hurt her. He was so resentful of this world, fearful of it and fearful for his safety and the safety of his family.

She told the woman that it was normal, it would be explained when they got there.

—-

It was a short twenty minute drive to Jennifer's house, though every mile seemed like an eternity for the parents. They'd been assured that their daughter was safe, that they'd wait for them to get to the house, that nothing was going to happen, but there was still that unnerving dread. _Tricksters, brutes, liars,_ he thought bitterly, the scars on his stomach burning.

He rested a hand on his wife's shoulder as she drove, jaw clenched tightly and sick to his stomach. He didn't try to fool himself - he was scared. He was frightened for his family because he knew first hand what could happen. His heart hammered in his chest and his breathing came out shakily, the weight in his torso too great for him to breathe properly.

—-

The doorbell rang, and Michelle looked up from where she and Jennifer were sitting in the living room. The woman got up immediately to answer the door, instructing the little girl to remain on the couch. While she was more than eager to see her parents, Jennifer told her that there was no guarantee that it was them; better to be safe than sorry. And thus, she alone went to the door.

Standing on her porch was a young couple. The man was very wide eyed and loomed over her, coming in at something she guessed was around seven feet tall. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him. His hands wrung together incessantly in a show of nervousness that struck pity into her. His counterpart, his wife, was nearly two feet shorter than him, eyes darting about frantically, searching the face of the woman standing in the doorway. She held a baby at her hip, probably no more than three.

Jennifer frowned at the couple. They certainly did seem genuinely distressed for their daughter.

However, they were also all human.

Her frown deepened. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice toneless as she looked the two over, her form blocking the doorway, although they could clearly hear the telly on inside.

Her voice struck a chord of anger in the man, who drew himself up to his full height and, chest heaving, asked for his daughter. How dare she? How could she possibly find the justification to withhold their daughter? Did she not know, did she not clearly see the distress and distrust? Did she not care that she'd taken their little girl from them?

Rae's fingers laced between his before he curled them into a fist, and started forward. "Please," she said. "We just want Michelle."

When the woman spoke, Jennifer could hear the tone of ugly distress, the sadness and the fear. She could hear a mother's concern, and - despite the fact that these two were almost certainly not parents to a fairy - she felt a pang of pity. "The wings," the woman said, her voice softened, now, holding a sympathy for the 'parents' that she hoped appeased the man. He was rather intimidating. "I'm just trying to protect her. How are you her parents if you're both human?"

"I-I'm not," he breathed, his face paling and arms folding across his stomach. "I'm a fairy, a wingless fairy, please. Please, where is she?"

She stared at him in shock for a moment, to see his demeanour change so suddenly. It hit home with her more than her mother's inflections did, for him to be so frightened of her, and she pressed her lips together and nodded sharply, turning and leaving the doorway for a moment to beckon to the young Faeid.

She peeked around the corner wall uncertainly, shy thing that she was, but the moment she saw her parents, standing in the door fearful and bedraggled for the events of the last day, she darted forward, her wings fluttering in excitement as they embraced her, lifted her up and covered her in kiss after kiss. She could hear her mother crying softly into her hair between kisses, and her father stood over her, lifting her face to check her, asking her the perfunctory questions - Are you okay? What happened? Did she tell anyone? Were you alone? and the such - and she answered truthfully each one, satisfying her father's frantic interrogation.

Jennifer looked on in happiness and no little amount of awe at the reuniting of the family. When it seemed that the parents' frenzy had died down a bit, she offered her hand to the mother. "I'm sorry," she said gently as they shook. "I truly had no idea she was a child. I just thought she needed help."

Tracy took the little girl from his wife's arms and held her close against him, looking down at the woman. Jennifer was shocked to see his weary countenance, even after having his daughter safe in his arms. She suspected it ran deeper than the lost child, than the knowledge of humans and their ways towards magic. She wondered how far deep it ran and, as the little girl clutched at his shirt, tiny handfuls of cloth pulling his neckline down, she saw the remnants of what was once a gruesome scar. Her breath caught as he stared down at her. "She did," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for providing it, for protecting her. Even if you didn't… know. She was lost. If someone, any one else had found her before we did… we might not have been so lucky. We might not have her back." he said. "Thank you."

Though she couldn't quite explain why, Jennifer felt tears rising in her eyes as she smiled thinly and nodded at the parents, reaching out and giving Michelle's hand a squeeze. "You stay close to your mom and dad now, okay?" she asked.

The girl nodded. "Hailee wants to thank you for taking care of me, too." a grin crossed the girl's face. "She thought it was cool to have a fairy in her bedroom."

Jennifer watched on in shock as the three bid farewell and disappeared into thin air, back home to the home the young girl had told her about.

—-

That was when things changed for him. He had been so terrified for his daughter in the hours that she'd been missing, so certain that she'd been abused and taken and held against her will, misunderstood and treated wrongly by the humans, the same humans that had done so to him decades ago. But Jennifer, her want to protect his daughter for sheer kindness, reminded him that The Human Plane wasn't to be feared, wasn't to be looked upon as a place for fairies to have their lives ripped from them.

Because people like her existed.


	21. New Arrival

It had been completely unexpected, as her son's due date was still two weeks into the future. She'd been standing outside the garden gates, waiting for Michelle to come out of her classes when all of a sudden she'd felt a warm wet pooling around her thighs, drawing no little amount of attention to herself as she dropped her things. Donella sprang into action immediately, gathering her friend's belongings quickly and leading Rae out of the Garden. Michelle would go home with her friend Venus until Iris could come pick her up. It was the sort of thing they had planned – though not for such a sudden situation.

Rae was rushed to the ward, unable to be taken to taken to The Human Plane in the surprise of the moment, her contractions starting on the way.

She was terrified; she knew the risks of a premature birth. She was frightened the baby wouldn't make it or that there would be complications with the birth. She fought to keep her composure, biting back tears as the contractions shot through her, as fairies swarmed around her, and the only thing she could think of was her husband.

At any moment, she was certain that he would come rushing into the ward, right to her side and he would take her hand and quiet her fears. He would be there for her as he always was, and she kept her head turned toward the only set of doors in the room, the only way he could come in, waiting for the doors to burst open.

The contractions worsened and the nurses spread an odd salve across the lower part of her stomach that numbed her, took all the feeling from her waist down, and her breath quickened, deepened, making her head spin and she was certain that if she weren't laying down that she would have collapsed.

She began calling for him, begging the nurses to find him, bring him here, please! And it was all they could do to calm her, to assure her that they _were_ trying to get in contact with her husband, but no luck.

She followed their instructions in a daze, breathing and pushing at intervals and squeezing the nurse's hand as she knelt by her side, all the time wishing it were _Tracy's_hand, _Tracy's_ voice reassuring her that everything was going well.

She couldn't focus, she could hardly even hear the chorus of cheers from around her as the head nurse held her son, tiny and pink and crying at the top of his small lungs, distraught to be out in the world as Rae was without her husband at her side. She let out a shaky laugh, vision swimming as they took _him_ away, too, and one choked sob before she passed out.

It was an odd sensation that woke her up after the stressful delivery. Her thoughts immediately flew back to her son, who had been taken from her to be cleaned up and placed in the neonatal unit for specific tests to make sure he was healthy despite his premature birth. Her heart ached with the hope that he was okay.

But as she stirred awake, the peculiar feeling persisted. She recognized it as fingers, brushing against her cheek and she smiled, feeling whoever sat next to her shift their weight, leaning forward and ducking their head to her, taking her in a kiss.

"I'm late," he said sadly as she opened her eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, my honeybee." He rubbed his thumb rhythmically across the crest of her cheek, and she reached up, removing his hand and smiling gently. She wasn't mad, quite the opposite, she was just so relieved that he was finally there. His fingers curled around hers. "I talked to the nurses; Lucas is doing well, thought you might want to know."

The knot in her stomach slowly disappeared, the promise of her son's safety quelling her fears. "Where were _you_?" she asked gently.

He leaned forward and pushed a stray strand of hair from her face, kissing her forehead. "Trapped," he whispered. "Little girl had a nightmare, and with _me_ knocking about in her room, she woke right up, screamed and got _both_ her folks involved. Had to spray myself invisible and stand out of the way until she went back to sleep and I could get the tooth. Poor thing, she was up and absolutely hysterical. Took every ounce of will power not to show myself and help calm her. Probably should have, though, considering that left you here _alone_, while I was on assignment. I'm so sorry," he repeated.

She hushed him and told him not to fret about it. She told him that Michelle was with Iris, and he took out his cell phone so that they could call their daughter.

It was his sister who answered the phone, and they had a brief chat, telling her that everything was well; Yes, Tracy was here now, is Michelle behaving? They thanked her for taking their daughter at such short notice and all Iris could do was laugh. She asked if they wanted to talk to her, she was upstairs reading.

A beat passed asTracy's sister went to hand the phone to the little girl she was looking over.

There was the soft rustle of static between them as Michelle took the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, flower,"Tracysaid gently to the phone, which was set on speaker and between them. "Mam and dad wanted to know how you're doing."

"I'm okay. Did mom have a baby?" she asked.

"I did," Rae answered. "You're a big sister now, Shell. You've got a baby brother."

"What's his name?" she asked.

"His name is Lucas, dear."

"Tell him I said welcome to the family. He's going to like it here."

Both parents had to suppress laughter at their daughter's antics. "I sure will, flower," he said gently. "Why don't you put your Aunt Iris back on for me? I need to talk to her about you staying there for the night until mam gets out of the hospital. Is she there?"

"Yeah, one second."

As Michelle went to hand the phone back to Iris,Tracytook the phone off of speaker and meandering over to a corner of the ward room.

"Here she is, dad."

"Okay flower; we love you, and we'll be home soon. Behave for your Aunt now."

She promised she would and handed off the phone.

Hours later, Rae sat in the hospital bed, cradling the little bundle that had just been returned to her. The room was dark and quiet, the only sound the steady humming of the lights and the quiet gurgling noises coming from her son. She hushed him, bouncing him gently in her arms. "Lucas," she crooned, as he began to fuss.

By this time, her cheeks were stained and there was nothing left in her, no energy or tears, and she focused wholly on her son, who was squirming gently in her arms, and she crooned to him;Tracykneeled next to her, never leaving her side, and she passed the tiny bundle to him, letting him hold his son.

"Hello, bud," he whispered to the newborn, who had begun to cry for the motion of shifting from one parent to the next. Tracyrocked the baby gently, a careful technique born of having to cradle Michelle so often in her infancy, and the little boy was quieted almost instantly. Rae smiled at her husband, though he didn't see it – he was such a good father, though he fretted about it all the time, worrying over his mannerisms around the kids, how he handled them, and he would never believe her when she told him, but she could see it. He was a _wonderful_ father, and she and their children alike were the luckiest people on either plane of existence, to have him.

Before long, a nurse came back to take Lucas to the neonatal ward. In the morning, the nurse said, they would bring him back and let him rest with his parents before the final bath – from what his wife told him when Michelle was born, it was almost like a christening. The bath was prepared of a mixture of The Waters and other herbs, most of which could only be grown inFairyLand. Except, instead of the bath signifying an acceptance into a human religion, it was more practical, acting as a medical procedure of sorts, making the young child less vulnerable to potent magic. Often times, this was done for full fairy newborns, as extra precaution. The amount of magic in a child's body could sometimes prove dangerous, even with the bath, but for half-fairies, it was almost essential. Humans were so sensitive to magic, and with Rae's heritage, neither parent objected to the bath.

For the night, though, they were left allowed to remain with her for the remainder of her stay in the ward. Come the morning though, they would take their new arrival home.

It'd been a long day, Rae thought, returning home with Lucas. Things had to be done very carefully when dealing with The Human Plane – it'd been so long, nearly half a century that she'd dropped off the face of the planet. To them, the humans, she no longer existed. She _couldn't_ exist, for the sake of keeping her family safe, and they were careful to do everything in such a manner as to be as discreet as possible. Doctor's appointments were paid in cash, she used a false name and gave a false address. The phone number and email address were marked as preferred methods of communication, and those she gave freely. Neither could be traced and both could be changed at any time.

To be home after a long day in her old world was such a comfort – she hadn't realized how taxing it was to be so far from the constant energy of magic, so far from _home_. So it was good to be back, sitting on the bed and nursing Lucas with Michelle sitting at the edge of the bed, telling her about her day at The Academy.

There was a knock on the bedroom door, andTracypeeked his head in. The little girl got up and ran to him, allowing him to hoist her into the air. "Oh, hello, flower!" he as he moved carefully to the bedside, leaning over and kissing his wife quickly before he could lose balance. "Hello, honeybee. And hello, little man! Oh, look at you," he held Michelle at his hip and, with his free hand, tried to smooth down the infant's spiky brown hair; it was a useless effort. Lucas continued to suck on the bottle as he stared curiously up at his , setting Michelle down. "You comfy there, with you mam?"

"Shell, dear, go get ready for bed," Rae said, and her daughter ran off to put on pajamas and brush her teeth, leaving her mother and father.

She turned to her husband. "I took Lucas to the clinic today." She said, "While Shell was at The Academy."

He took the baby from his wife's arms, holding the bottle as well once he was settled. The baby smiled up at his father when the man cooed at him. "Yeah? What did Doctor Miles have to say?"

Doctor Miles was a human practitioner whom Rae had gone to for the day. He wasn't disclosed any information when Rae took Lucas, inquiring if he shared the same 'deformity' as her daughter.

It was an advantage to have a doctor on The Human Plane – Fairies rarely had the ability to tell whether their children were going to be winged or not.

"Well?"Tracypushed, bouncing the boy in his arms.

Rae didn't say anything, but merely smiled and shook her head.

Lucas was a wingless fairy.

He looked down, removing the empty bottle from the baby's mouth and handing it off to his wife, who sat it on the bedside table. "Oh, sorry about that, mate," he said softly. "S'my fault. Like your old dad, eh?"

"With any luck," Rae whispered warmly.


	22. Wings

Rae brought Michelle home early that day. The Academy had called just as both parents were giving Lucas a bath. Had Michelle been hurt? No, not particularly, but she was to be taken home and tended to. She'd trusted bath time to Tracy and, heart in her throat, hastily explained to him what she'd been told and rushed to meet Michelle at the Garden Gates.

She sat there with her back pressed firmly against one of the pillars of the arc, wriggling slightly. When asked what the problem was, Michelle merely answered, "My back burns," but her mother could hear the obvious discomfort in her voice.

There wasn't much to do until they arrived home, save for asking questions.

Why does your back burn?

I don't know.

What were you doing?

Sitting in class, waiting for the instructor to call me for the demonstration.

When was this?

Half an hour ago.

The questions yielded no useful answers, and by the time the two got home, Rae took matters into her own hands, moving them into the bathroom and having Michelle remove her dress and face her back to the older woman.

The mother gasped when she saw the cause of her daughter's ailment: fine purple feathers sprouted from her skin, in the same pattern that they decorated her husband's back. A thick white substance clung to the down, matting it to her skin, which was peeling.

"What is it?" Michelle asked.

Rae had no good answer for this, as it happened. She told her daughter to remain in the bathroom as she stepped out, seeking Tracy, who had just put Lucas back in the crib – the infant was often tired after baths. She rounded the door frame of the nursery, and he turned to face her after he'd locked the gate in place. "What's the matter?" he asked. "Is she allright?"

Another question that she didn't have an answer to. She tried to answer, her mouth opening and words barely forming. "Just… come on, you're up for this one." She sighed, leading her husband back to where their daughter waited patiently.

At first glance, there was nothing wrong with the girl, but when Rae turned her around, and Tracy could see the fine feathers lining her spine and shoulder blades, he sounded off and gave a clap, afterwards fearing that he might have woken the baby in his excitement. He crouched down to her, resting on the balls of his feet, bouncing slightly as he explained to his wife and daughter. "This." he said, pointing to the area of irritation on her back, "This is the beginning stage of wing development!"

It all took a moment to process for Rae. _Wing development_. Of course, she knew it was going to happen at _some_ point, given her DNA, but her daughter was growing _wings_. It was almost as surreal as the night Tracy – who, at the time had been a sketchy stranger who she was so sure was a Tooth Fairy – had whisked her away to the realm she now called home. The thought cycled through her head a few times before a wide grin crept across her lips, replacing her blank expression.

Both parents knelt and hugged their child together, kissing her cheek in turn, and Rae could tell _just_ what this meant for Tracy, someone who had gone his whole life ridiculed and put down by others for the lack of the very thing his daughter was graced with.

The girl between them wriggled slightly in discomfort and her parents all but sprang into action,Tracy pulling a white wash cloth from the cabinet he was positioned next to, running the tap and waiting for it to warm up. Even though he hadn't grown wings, this was something that every fairy experienced, the spontaneous growth of the fluff lining the base of the wings.

Rae sat herself on the floor, behind Michelle, and was handed the wash cloth once Tracy had run it under hot water, pawing gently at the light purple fluff that lined her spine and shoulder blades. A white gelatinous substance matted the stuff to her skin, which was raw and peeling around the lines, as if she'd sustained sunburn.

Tracy leaned against the counter in the bathroom. "You're going to have beautiful purple wings, just like your mam had." He said excitedly.

His daughter looked up at him. "Am I going to lose my wings, too?"

"No, sweetheart," Rae answered, standing and washing the gunk from the rag, moving Tracy out of the way. "No, my wings weren't permanent. I'm not a fairy, like daddy. I could only have them for a little while."

She moved back to her daughter, sitting and resuming the work.

"Will it hurt? Growing wings?"

Rae paused for a fraction of a second, looking up at her husband. Her wings hadn't been natural – they'd been magic and hadn't been _grown_, per stuttered, unsure of how to answer it – he had no wings of his own! "I – I, uh… no." he offered. "No, no it shouldn't."

Tracy was a wingless fairy, true, but he'd grown up with two older sisters, both winged – neither one of them had experienced any pain that he was aware of.

As Rae wiped the white gunk from Michelle's back, the warm water of the rag matted the fluff further; as it dried„ it stood on end. "Don't you worry, flower." He said, stooping down and hooking a finger under her chin to lift her gaze. "You're a faeid – this is completely natural." He reassured her.

Michelle's eyes went wide as her mother began gently rubbing away at the torn skin on her back; it was an uncomfortable sensation at first, but she eventually relaxed. "How come you don't have wings?" she asked.

Tracy felt his face pink slightly and swallowed his pride. "Never grew any," he answered. "Some fairies just can't, you know. Wingless fairies."

The little girl nodded, accepting his answer in understanding.

When Rae had cleaned her daughter's back, she ran her fingers gently through the fluff to separate the feathers. "There," she said finally, and Michelle pulled her dress back over her head.

"Your wings should grow in soon," Tracy said, picking her up and helping his wife up from the floor. "And they're going to be spectacular, I can tell."

The morning was still; Rae was feeding Lucas, who was spitting everything back up. Tracy was making tea, and Shell was still asleep.

"D'you think she's still alive up there?" the woman asked, taking a cup from her husband with thanks.

He snorted. "For all we know she could have sprouted her wings in the middle of the night and flown away!" he joked, sitting down next to her; he took the spoon and baby food from his wife and spun Lucas's high chair around. "'Lo, bud! How's the food here?" he asked the boy as Rae got up to wake Michelle.

Lucas wasn't having any part of breakfast that morning, spitting out whatever Tracy spooned into his mouth. Within the first two minutes, his glasses were pattered with creamed oats – feeding had always been an ordeal at this age, even with Michelle. Still, he merely laughed and tried again.

"Aren't you rebellious, you little pip-squeak! Hate to see what you're going to be like in a few years!" which was a lie, really. He knew that Lucas would grow up well – there wasn't a doubt in the man's mind that he was going to experience the darker side of fairy culture, not with his peculiar family and, worst of all, the still prevalent wing discrimination in society.

A part of him wanted to apologize for that – it was his genetics, after all, that rendered his son wingless and at a disadvantage in a wing-dominant society, but he reminded Lucas – and himself – that there was nothing wrong with being a wingless fairy.

He spooned more oats into the boy's mouth and he laughed, the food immediately making a retreat and dribbling down his chin as he smiled. Tracy pat at his face and removed the mess, peering own into the jar of baby food. "You're almost done, bud, just a little more? For your dad? There you go!" he exclaimed, spooning the rest of the mush from the jar and into the infant's mouth, which he retained.

"Tracy," Rae called from the stairs.

"Yes, honeybee?"

"You were… _half_ right," she said, coming into the kitchen with Michelle at her side.

He looked up and saw his daughter, with delicate purple wings sprouting from her back, glistening in the light that streamed into the kitchen, and he gave a start. "Look at _you_!" he beamed, going to her and lifting her in his arms, her wings fluttering slightly, which was fairly uncommon for new wings. "You," he said, "are going to be a spectacular flyer." he put her down suddenly. "Congrats, flower! Now go and get dressed, we _do_ have a busy day ahead of us!" he said, and she ran off as Rae took Lucas out of the chair. She came up behind him, balancing her son on her hip, as he watched after his daughter, bounding up the stairs. Her hand came to a rest on his back, directly over the where his own cream-colored fluff had grown, marking where his wings would have been. He looks down at her in a mild surprise, eyebrows arced for a moment before his expression softens and he holds her. "Little girl's growing up, isn't she?"


	23. Sick Day

The seasons in Fairy Land weren't as diverse as they were on The Human Plane. There was no transition of winter, no cold as she was accustomed to, and no summer, the height of heat. There were two seasons, one in the beginning of the year, and the other six months after, in the height of the Suns' lives.

Every year, after Guld Fethel, magic would be more than abundant in the realm. It excited all the dryads in the Black Wood, made them crazy and far too industrious at their job, blowing life into all the plants, making them bud and bloom. But once the small creatures, commonly mistaken by humans for fairies, pushed outwards to the borders of the Woods, there was no stopping them, in a frenzy to make bloom as much as possible, and they became brave, pushing into the districts and running amok. There were far too many of them to be corralled efficiently – fairies have tried, but it was a wasted effort, trying to keep them contained.

It would have been bearable, but for the fact that because of the cycles of the Suns, the times when magic was at its height, things never _stopped_ blooming. Of course, towards the ends of the runs, it was much better. Things would bloom almost immediately after Guld Fethel, the time of the year when magic was just naturally abundant. The pollen and residual magic would hang in the air, slowly diminishing until Lu'Leas Be Tselares, when the rebirth of the suns would renew the magic, exciting the dryads again and they would spread over the districts again. Only once the second round of blooms began did the first ones whither, loosing color and retreating into the ground.

Some fairies were affected more than others; where it was a nuisance for some, it could land others in the ward. The mixture of pollen and magic could be a major trigger for some, causing allergies that could be potentially life threatening.

Tracy sniffled, leaning back into the chair in the break room. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, tipping his head back. He wasn't exactly one of the unlucky ones; his reaction – his _allergies_, as Rae called them – were hardly as life threatening as they were for some of the fairies he knew, but they were miserable.

He gave a great sneeze, his whole body jerking and hitting his knee painfully on the underside of the table he was sitting at.

He looked at his watch, counting down the minutes until his shift, the window of time for him to receive assignments, was over.

He pawed irritably at his chest, and glanced at his watch again. He just had a few more minutes until he could go home, back to Rae and just being with her would take his mind off of the renewed spring, the frustrating effects of the dryads.

The magic in the air, coupled with the pollen of all the blooming flowers, had proved bothersome for him over his life. He'd had the infliction since he was a young boy, but it hadn't affected him as much, then. Things had gotten worse as he'd gotten older, and now his 'allergies' lasted longer than ever – almost half the season, slowly building during the first month and coming to a crescendo during the sixth week, leaving him the rest of the time to recover. This season, though, they'd hit him hard – there was more magic in the air, this season; no one could explain it, but despite the personal suffering of Spring, it _was_ a good thing – it meant this season's quota could be lower to sustain The Pool, and any surplus magic collected could be used in the reserve.

Tracy moved through the rest of the day in motions. He was glad to go home but, once he was there, he found that all he wanted to do was curl up next to Rae and go to sleep. He was weary and his mind was starting to drift, unable to keep focus for the stiffness in his chest.

Come later that evening, there were no objections.

Rae was up so early, as of late – nearly two hours before their alarm went off. She slid out of bed, careful not to wake Tracy, to go feed Lucas and tell Michelle to get ready for class. It'd been a rough night for her husband. Before they'd gone to bed, he'd very nearly been unable to breath through his nose, and had taken to a fit of coughing every couple of minutes. She'd given him some cough medicine; he'd taken it very hesitantly, unsure of how he'd react to the human concoction, but she'd reassured him; instead of treating the magical aspect of his illness, trying to cure it (a task that was all but impossible, with the irritant bountiful in the atmosphere), what she gave him was meant to help the congestion in his chest and nose. He wasn't used to human medicine, the chemicals and synthesized drugs. Fairy medicine was traditionally natural, made of herbs and other organics from both worlds. But she'd told him that it would work, that it would help him clear up a bit and get the rest he so desperately needed, and he'd downed the measured dose of the clear, bitter liquid, coughing as it burned through his chest. She'd had him lie down and kept his head propped up all night, hoping that the medicine would work during the night, let him sleep and wake up feeling much better.

But as she carefully turned the knob, hearing Lucas's muffled, discontented cries from the nursery, her husband gave a great snore, which ended in a cough as he shuffled onto his side.

Rae sighed, having pity for the sick man, but at least he was sleeping. The last few nights, before she'd been able to convince him to let her make a run to The Human Plane, they hadn't been so lucky,Tracy having to get up every hour or so to go to the bathroom and try to decongest himself.

Rae let him, glad that he hadn't woken up, moving quietly down the hall to the nursery. She picked Lucas up, cradling him against her shoulder as she moved into the kitchen to make a bottle for the little boy.

She sat in the dimly lit kitchen with him, cradling her in her arms and pressing the bottle to his lips as he sucked. Soon, a glance at the kitchen clock told her that it was nearly seven. She frowned, looking towards the bedroom door as Lucas finished off the bottle. Tracy was usually up by now. She lay her son back down, listening to his soft, happy gurgles for a moment, before he fell back into a light sleep, and she went back down the hall by the light of the kitchen, opening the door a crack and peeking in. Tracy lie on his back, now, head tilted back into the crease of the pillow, snoring loudly.

Rae's shoulders shook in a silent giggle at the sight and she entered, creeping up next to him and flicking the switch on the alarm clock, turning it off so that it's blare wouldn't wake him.

Smiling, she retreated, watching his form as she backed out of the room, closing the door and going to help Shell to classes.

The sun was higher, the light streaming freely though the windows. There was a kettle on the stove, keeping the water hot until Tracy woke up.

Lucas was napping, after a diaper change, and Michelle was off at The Academy. She was alone, for the moment, and it was nearing eight o clock; the fairy in the next room was still asleep.

There was a clatter from the bedroom, and she looked up from her book as he came bounding into the kitchen, stumbling and sniffling and half-dressed, with his tie half undone and one cuff buttoned, his vest inside out, and she stood immediately, rushing to him, to give him a support and he almost fell against her. "Sorry," he gasped. "I'm – I'm going to be late." The last word dissolved into another cough, and she could hear the phlegm in his chest, the result of a week's worth of allergies. She hushed him, leading him to the kitchen table, where he happily took a seat, knees weak beneath him. "The alarm, it didn't go off, I should have been up half an hour ago—"

"That's because I turned the alarm _off_, sweetie. Don't worry, I already called you in sick." She said, steeping a teabag in the hot water in the mug, adding honey and lemon as he groaned, wiping at his forehead.

"No, honeybee, I – I can't call in sick, I have to – you know how it is – they need everyone they can get, what with all the – the – the—" he sneezed, a loud, resonating noise that shook his whole body.

"Forget it," she said sternly. "No way I'm letting you go to work like this." She handed him the mug before going to rummage though one of the cabinets next to the stove. She came back to Tracy with a small bottle in her hand, setting it on the table in front of him. He looked at it wearily, taking it in one of his own hands and squinting down at it; he'd left his glasses in the bedroom, and honestly couldn't see very much, which, Rae assumed, accounted for his inside-out vest. "Wot's this?" he asked, and they could _both_ hear how nasal his voice was.

She leaned over him, wiping the matted hair from his forehead. "More medicine. I want you to take two of them with that tea and go back to sleep." She said.

"No," he said, sternly, though it came out sounding positively pathetic. "I've got to go in, you shouldn't have called, you know I need to be there," he retorted, placing the steaming mug on the table and trying to stand. He coughed again, and when he was able to gasp for breath, he shuddered.

She took him by the elbow and tried to offer some support. "Tracy," she started, leading him back to the bedroom. He wanted to protest, but the shivers and the sheer exhaustion prevented him from doing so. "You're top of your team, and the last time you took a day off was when Michelle was born and you had to drop the assignment to come to the hospital. _Please_," she said, as he sat heavily on the bed. She unbuttoned his vest and eased it over his shoulders, removing it and turning it right-side-in before folding it over her arm, bending over him and performing the same motions on his shirt. She had him lie down, seeing that his chest was slick with perspiration, as she went to retrieve the tea and the medicine. "Please, just rest. You need it, you look dreadful."

He hummed miserably into the mug, downing the two pills she'd handed him. "Call Fairy," he said sleepily, sliding back under the covers, "and tell them I'll just be in… later…" he whimpered, trying to suppress a cough and closing his eyes.

She bent down and placed a kiss to his forehead. "Of course, my dear." She whispered before she stood and left him to sleep.

Rae knew he would be bed-ridden for another day or two, until the care and medicine could open him up and break up the congestion in his chest; she didn't bother calling Fairy.


	24. Growing Up: Lucas

NIGHTMARES

The forest was damp and desolate; a sharp, fearful loneliness shot through the boy as he realized that he was alone. His limbs began to shake as the sky darkened, casting long shadows over everything, transforming the land – it seemed as if things suddenly sprang from the earth: shards of bones, puddles of blood, the remains of poor creatures, fairy, human and beast alike, and strands of delicate, shining silk hanging from every elevated surface. Lucas cried out, turning in a wide circle, hoping for someone to find him. He wanted his mum and dad, he wished that he had listened to them, when he was told to avoid the black woods, the most dangerous parts ofFairyLand. His heart hammered in his chest, spinning back around as an odd rustling came from the brush.

It moved out of the shadows, and Lucas gasped in shock and fright. It looked not unlike the common Tarantula – eight legs, beady eyes and mandible pinchers set at its jaw; its segmented body covered in a coarse brown fur. It moved in much the same way as an ordinary Tarantula, and the only perceivable difference between the two was its size. _This _spider was approximately the size of a dinner table and much, much larger than him.

He tried to shuffle backwards, away from the approaching spider, but his legs didn't want to work. He was rooted to the spot by some odd force, to watch in terror as it approached him, haws clicking together. It reached out one rough leg and placed it on the boy's shoulder, bearing all of its weight on him as it opened its jaws, hissing in his face—

Lucas woke up, bolted to a sitting position in bed, drenched in a cold sweat and unable to catch his breath. He lay back down, burying himself under the covers and cowering, squeezing his eyes shut. Just go back to sleep…

His skin crawled, feeling as if a hundred little spiders were scuttling under his covers and he jumped from the bed, hovering for a moment and unsure of what to do.

Rae woke with a start, eyes adjusting to the dark. "Lucas?" she grunted in a whisper. "Sweetie, what's wrong?" she shifted in bed, careful not to wake her husband.

"The Spiders," he whispered back, taking his hand from his mother's arm as she sat up.

Rae knew immediately and took her son into her arms, lifting him onto the bed and letting him lie with her. She held him close, whispering to him that The Spiders couldn't hurt him, they were so far away and he would always be protected. She sang the fairy lullaby, the one that Tracy had taught her to sing to Michelle. Once, her husband stirred, shifting next to her and she paused, ceasing her movement until he fell back into a deep sleep.

She hushed her son, calming him back to sleep, closing her eyes once he, too, fell asleep.

PRIDE

It was Lucas's fourth term of classes. Michelle was no longer there to look after him, and this worried their mother, as she stood outside the Garden Gates, waiting for her son. Her heart sank when she saw that he was accompanied by one of the instructors. She apologized profusely to the woman and took her son from her grasp, picking him up and he latched onto her shoulder.

She brought him home and cleaned the one, long cut that ran up his arm. Neither Lucas nor Rae were willing to talk, not just yet. When the wound was cleaned and wrapped, she told him to go change out of his dirt-smeared uniform.

She sighed; Tracy wouldn't be home until much later that night, and she didn't quite know what she was going to do with Lucas – he wasn't a bad child, she knew that, and she wished she could say that she didn't know why he'd gotten into a fight in the middle of his classes, but the answer was all too obvious – she'd noticed, picking him up for classes, the dozens of young fairies with new, pastel gossamer wings, while Lucas was, and would remain, bare-backed. She hadn't a doubt in her mind that the tussle in the garden was a result of the way the younger fairies treated him. Oh, she'd seen it. Their parents were wonderful people, and if any of them held a wing prejudice, they certainly kept it to themselves, but the children weren't as kind or understanding. By their standards, being wingless meant being a victim, and she and Tracy had tried so hard, gone to great measures to ensure that their son knew that there was nothing wrong with him, that the children were wrong to say that he was 'disabled' of any of the other nasty nicknames given to wingless fairies in The Academy.

Lucas took comfort in the fact that his father, also a wingless fairy, the first and only wingless _Tooth_ Fairy, led his team, despite any 'disability.' Lucas knew that being wingless was nothing of the sort, but he also knew that it was no walk in the park, and so did his mother.

She sat him down in his bedroom, smoothing down his hair. He sat there with her, unmoving. "I'm sorry I lost my temper," he said quietly.

"I know, sweetie. But you need to know that no matter what they—"

"But I'm not sorry I hit him." He finished.

This took Rae by surprise, stopping her mid sentence. A beat passed as she adjusted. "You're… not sorry you hit him?" She asked; he shook his head. "Why not?"

"Because he was being mean" Lucas answered. He took hold of his mother's hand, setting it in his lap. "He told me that he hoped we start doing actual sacrifices for Guld Fethel again, so that they'll throw you into – into the magic, and…" he stopped, frowning.

"So you hit him," she said, thoughtfully. He nodded. She ducked down and hugged her son. "Just because we're treated differently, that doesn't mean we can hurt people like they hurt us. Thank you," she said, "for standing up for me, but I'd rather have them say bad things about us than for you to get in trouble." She lifted him onto her lap. "They can't hurt us. But please, _please_ try to stay out of trouble, Lucas."

His voice became softer. "Are you mad?" he asked.

She let him down, thinking as she stood. "No," she answered at length. "But I don't expect it to happen again, no matter what they say. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, solemnly.

She kissed his forehead. "Good."

GRADUATION

Lucas sat in one of the stiff fold out chairs, fidgeting. The tiny garden where they held ceremonies and classes was stifling in the heat today, and the heavy velvet robes that they had to wear weren't helping matters. The ceremonies would take hours, as fairies weren't exactly known to be short and to the point in ordeals like this.

The young man leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him; it felt good to not keep himself cramped up in the immediate vicinity of his own folding chair, but even then his knees were still bent uncomfortably, due to his rather unusual height. At the age of seventeen, he was already nearing six feet, and had to look down at almost anyone he was talking to. He scoffed in dry amusement at the thought and removed his glasses to wipe the sweat from the bridge of his nose as the music started.

Their trainer descended from the balcony behind the audience, and took her place at the podium to conduct the ceremony. She was all smiles and seemed impervious to the maddening heat. "Good morning everyone!" she spoke, her voice carrying in an unnatural manner, influenced by magic. "And welcome to the graduation of Tooth Fairy Training class 717!"

The boy let his head fall back and groaned quietly. After a moment, he picked his head up and looked out into the crowd, squinted against the harsh sunlight. It was high noon when the ceremony started, and the light was blinding. Still, he was able to make out his father's figure, towering above everyone else, and next to him, his mum. The unpleasant feeling in his chest, the constant roar of discomfort, of alienation in such a winged class, ebbed when he saw his parents. His whole life, he'd been told that he was at a disadvantage, that his parents had cursed him to be a wingless fairy in a bi-species family. He was told, even by them, that his life wasn't going to be easy, that others would treat him differently because of his genetics, because of his parents, and he accepted it.

But for the most part, being a wingless fairy had never been of much consequence. Yes, he was bullied in his youth, his family had been made fun of by the other children, but all it took was a quiet correction, a reminder that his father was the only wingless tooth fairy, that his mother was the first human in nearly five hundred years to live in Fairy Land. Not since his childhood was he so offended by their poorly-reasoned insults. Many people still looked down at him as if he _were_ at a disadvantage, but he was indifferent. As it happened, he was actually at quite and advantage, being of a multi-cultured family – by his adolescence, he knew more about human culture than any one in several tiers of work, an aspect of knowledge that was imperative when being a Tooth Fairy.

He was an incredibly gifted child, and everyone knew – classmates, instructors, but most importantly, his parents. Lucas would be graduating at the top of his class.

If he were graduating.

Despite his top marks in his academic classes, his wide knowledge of The Human Plane, his expertise with the equipment, he was still a _wingless_ fairy. In order to graduate, you had to have passed a general flight course. In order to graduate, you had to have wings.

It'd been difficult, at first, when he'd learned he wouldn't be graduating. He'd wanted to drop from The Academy, not seeing the point in pursuing an education that would be – decidedly, _for_ him – a fruitless experience. His mum had reasoned with him, all but begged him, but of course that was years ago. And now, there he was, sitting with thirty-odd winged fairies, watching them all receive their licenses and turning their tassels from one side to the other.

At long last, the last name was called, and the last of the graduating class returned to her seat, as Miss Vivian went on with her speech.

He took it all silently, with a wry smile. He knew his instructor meant well – it was all just a matter of perspective, really. She was congratulating those of the class that had spent the last century leading up to this moment, those who were graduating the class and he'd admit, they deserved it. Each and every one of the kids he was sitting with had worked hard to get through the class. Still, that didn't change the fact that _that's what the ceremony was for_ – them. The winged fairies.

Lucas wasn't a bitter child. He hadn't been raised that way – his father had been, and he'd gone out of his way to make sure his son wasn't, because he knew how unpleasant it made life, resentment and wing-jealousy.

The class was released to go take seat with their parents, or whomever had come to congratulate them. When he reached his folks, he sat between them, and Tracy gave him a pat on the back, apologizing for Miss Vivian's oblivious ignorance, telling him that she had been the same way at _his_ class's graduation. Rae leaned over and pecked the young, lanky boy on the cheek.

He heaved a sigh, settling back into his chair. He wasn't _upset_ – hardly! He'd resigned to this a long time ago; it was more contented than anything, a sigh of relief that the dreadful ceremony was over.

He was to be enrolled as a caseworker in the morning.


	25. Flight Lessons

Michelle had been taking flight classes since he was two. His sister had always been an especially skilled flier, and she'd be taking flight until she graduated The Academy when she was seventeen. In the mean time, their mother had to shuffle her back and forth from her class lessons, which were held after school and on Saturdays. Occasionally – right now, actually – the class would perform, a display of what they'd learned since the last air show.

Once a year, in the middle of September, a competition would be held between the divisions of the classes, but this was not one of those events. This was a regular show, and the families of the fliers were sitting in the garden stage center, watching the students go through their routines, intricate maneuvers that were similar to any normal dance routine, save for the fact that _their feet never touched the ground_. Lucas sat there, between his mother and father, a wingless boy just shy of one hundred. He watched the fliers, engrossed in the show and in awe at their performance, but every so often something would catch his eye – he'd snap back to reality for a moment, and see the soft designs of their gossamer wings as the flew overhead, particularly close to the crowd. _That's what made it possible_, the wings. He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably at the though; just thinking about it, the light blue down on Lucas's shoulders burned, itched. He craned his neck back to watch his sister, wings batting against the wind as she ascended, far above ground, into the sunlight. His seat rocked back on two legs as he tried to get a better look, to keep eye contact with the purple blur against sky blue that was Michelle. The boy's heart skipped a beat as he tipped too far back, teetering for a moment before his father steadied the chair, putting him back on all fours and he sighed a breath of relief. Tracy chuckled, leaning towards his son. "It's something, isn't it?" he asked, lightly. "I'll tell you what though, I felt the same way. You and me – we're not flyers. That's okay, mate." He said, draping an arm over the back of the boy's chair.

Lucas heard his father's words, understood them and knew that Tracy didn't want him to feel disadvantaged or inadequate. Far from it, the young boy was in awe, purely fascinated by his sister's flight.

Suddenly, the fairies above the crowd stopped mid flight, hovering overhead. It was Michelle and two other fairies, much older than herself, that hovered in the middle of the others, forming a triangle within the circle of flying onlookers. The boy gasped as the three folded in their wings, falling slowly from their post above before they gathered speed, hurtling towards the crowd below. Those who were positioned in the circle around them spiraled down with them, surrounding them as they fell.

There was a collective gasp from the crowd, cheers as each young fairy re-opened their wings like parachutes, letting them glide safely back to the stage that had been set up.

Tracy knew that such maneuvers, such an intricate air show would not prove useful, but it was all just a part of advanced flight training, and Michelle was a brilliant flier, he knew that much. He stole a glance at Lucas, seeing how the younger boy was staring up at the performers. Tracy's heart sank, because he recognized that look; that was the look that _he'd_ often worn, a wing envy that he'd held almost his entire life. Granted, it was less, now, but to see that look on Lucas's face – he shook the boy's shoulder, snapping his attention from the aerial show. He looked up at Tracy, who just smiled down at him.

"Must be proud of her, huh?" he asked, looking away. How could he _not_ be? She had _wings_. Michelle was the only one in the family who was truly socially accepted.

Tracy reached down and ruffled the boy's hair, catching his wife's eye. "Of course I'm proud of her," he said, as the show began the next movement. "But not because she's winged. I'm proud of her because she's good at what she does. I—" he stuttered for a moment, changing the direction of his sentence. "Between you and me," he said quietly, leaning in. "Put her in front of a can of invisibility spray and she's useless! _You_ though! You're brilliant in your classes, on the field—"

"I would be," Lucas cut across him, "If I had wings."

"Oi," his father said sternly. "Let's not forget who we're talking to. If you _really_ want to work the field, after The Academy, no one's stopping you. It's not going to be as _easy_ for you as it will be for the others, the ones with wings, but if _I_ can do it, by Mab, I know you can. And if that's what you want to do, if being a Caseworker isn't your thing – and you might be surprised! You meet so many humans, and that's always interesting. Just, a lot of paperwork, y'see? But if being a Caseworker isn't your thing, I don't have a doubt that you'll make a great Tooth Fairy." He said, and he could see the boy's eyes light up as the crowd cheered on the performers, their routine coming to an end. "Having wings doesn't make you a proper Tooth Fairy. In fact, there was this one bloke I worked with, had wings. He was human, of course, but that doesn't matter. Point is, he was the worst Tooth Fairy we'd ever seen. Wings don't make you a Tooth Fairy. _You_ do. You've got to want it."

"I want it," Lucas said, with conviction in his voice. "I'm going to be a Tooth Fairy!"

Tracy laughed. "Don't go getting ahead of yourself, mate. You've got to finish you classes first, all of them. They won't let you apply for a permit right out of The Academy, either. You've got to take extra classes, learn how to be a Case Worker. And who knows? Maybe you'll even _like_ it." He chuckled, as the performers flew from their places on the stage, back to their families.

Michelle dropped from the air, to land in the empty seat next to her mother. Lucas turned from his father, leaning forward to talk to his sister. "That was really good, Shell!" he exclaimed. "That dive was amazing!"

The girl's smile only widened at this, as she thanked him. Of course that move hadn't been easy, and there had been a few nearly broken wings during practice, but she and the two other students (Daisy and Puck) had been the only ones to pull it off. For Lucas to tell her that it was amazing – a word that he most closely related to the mechanics of shrinking paste – was a high honor for her.

Rae smiled, watching her kids. They would never admit it, but they looked up to each other. Perhaps Lucas was more than half a century younger than her, but school was his strong suit, where hers was flight. Where one lacked, the other was quite able, and they played off of each other well, they looked up to and respected one another, and that was more than any mother could hope for siblings.

The crowds began to shift, filing out of the garden, and their family found themselves caught up in the wave of people, shuffling out the gates.

They sat in the trees, where the leaved turned silver, side by side. She'd carried them up there on her wings, and she was responsible for getting them down safely. She kept her arm around his waist at all times as they sat and laughed and kicked their legs hundred of feet above the ground, always making sure that he wouldn't fall. Their laughter dwindled slowly, and Lucas stared at his feet. "Shell?" he asked quietly, embarrassed. "What's it like to fly?"

The question took her by surprise and she herself nearly fell from the tree branch. She plucked a leaf from the wood and stared at it for a moment, pretending to be fascinated by the shine of the foliage, before shredding it in her hand and tossing the bits to the wind, watching them as they disintegrated into a fine magic dust before they hit the ground. "What's it like… to fly," she repeated, heaving a sigh. "It's… hard to explain," she said lightly. "It's not much different from walking, really. There's… just a lot more concentration involved." She laughed nervously, a habit she shared with her father. "I know a lot of the kids, they make it seem like it's _really something_. But unless I'm performing, the wings aren't… _special_."

Lucas hummed in acknowledgement. "They tell me that I… That _wingless_ fairies are…"

Michelle could hear the discomfort in his voice. "I know what they call you; what the called Dad." She said gently. "They're wrong, and most of those kids will never be _half _the Tooth Fairy you can. They're just jealous," she nudged him gently, "because you know more about being a Tooth Fairy than they ever will."

Rae called them in, and she looked at Lucas. "Ready?"

His smile widened as she jumped from the branch, suspended in the air with the steady beat of her wings. He felt himself lifted into the air by his sister and they hovered there for a moment before she lowered them gently to the ground, releasing him. As she turned to go back inside, he grabbed her arm, stopping her momentarily. "Thanks, Shell," he said warmly.

She laughed and smiled, throwing and arm around her little bother's shoulders as they walked back to the house.


	26. Barren

Michelle and Lucas were grown, now, but both parents desperately wanted more kids. They tried, several times, but none of their attempts to conceive ever took root. It was extremely disheartening, and Rae had begun to think that perhaps she would be unable to bear any more children.

It was after several years, though the blink of an eye for the two of them, and it was almost frightening, the way it all happened so suddenly. The first sign was the cramps; she'd dismissed it as the start of her cycle, but should have realized it sooner. She became dizzy, tired all the time and ready to fall asleep the moment she sat down. There were physical changes as well. Her breasts became sore, and there was an increase of headaches and back pain. It wasn't until the month came to pass, and Rae realized she'd missed her period, that it dawned on her.

Having two children already, she berated herself for not recognizing the signs earlier, but once she knew, it was a short trip to the Apothecary and back, a store bought pregnancy test in tow.

The box told her to wait three to five minutes before the results would show on the little white stick, but every time she looked down at it, the results block remained blank.

Six minutes.

Seven minutes.

Eight minutes.

Rae pressed her lips together and bit back tears. She didn't know why she got her hopes up. They'd been trying for so long, without so much as even the possibility she had been presented with this time. She picked up the test and moved from the bathroom to stick it back in the box and throw it out.

She paused. Every muscle in her body froze and she slowly turned the thing right side up.

A flash of pink had caught her eye.

The tears slipped down her cheeks, but for a different reason: She was pregnant. She would want to go to the clinic back home and have it checked professionally. The store bought test wasn't fool proof, and it could make mistakes. She wanted to be absolutely sure.

She made an appointment for next Thursday, and the week dragged by. Her body slowly adjusted to the news, and every little change only reassured her doubts. She knew this feeling; she was a mother twice over, she knew what it felt like.

He caught her, heading out the door on Thursday. It sent a thrill of terror shooting through her when he met her at the front door, having come home early, and ask her where she was going.

She smiled up at him, miraculously able to keep her composure after the sudden fright. "The doctor's," she lied. "Haven't been feeling well." She pecked him on the cheek and pushed past him, out the door, and left him standing there confused. A smile spread across her lips as she walked off.

Tracy stood there for several moments, watching her leave. She did seem a little off-kilter lately, the poor thing. He'd noticed how she seemed more and more exhausted as the month wore on. Perhaps she had caught something? It was an unsettling notion, as most fairy wards didn't know how to treat human illnesses very well. He assumed she was going to pop over to her world for a check up, where they knew more about human medicine.

He was left alone with his thoughts.

—-

When she got home that night, he asked her how the appointment went.

Rae sighed, smiling tiredly at her husband. "He said he wants me back in three months for another appointment."

His movements suddenly became stiffer, more uncertain. "Is everything allright?"

She merely shrugged. "Too early to tell." was her answer.

Tracy became steadily more concerned for her over the next few weeks. She slept more, she put on a bit of weight, and she was utterly despondent to him. It was terrifying. She never kept anything from him, not anything like this. Oh, what was wrong with her, that she didn't even want to discuss the doctor's visit when the three months passed. Just that he told her to come back in two weeks for any results they might have been able to pull. His chest ached when she said this, and he demanded he accompany her this time.

Rae looked up at him, the fatigue obvious in her eyes. His poor honeybee…

Still, she agreed, lacing her fingers between his as she led them back into the bedroom to retire early for the night. There was nothing she wanted to do more now than lie down and be able to fall asleep against her husband, to hear his heartbeat and his quiet murmurings. Only tonight, his words held a tint of fear to them.

She sighed against his chest. "I'm glad you want to come with me next time." she said. "I think… I think it's important you be there for this."

And with that, she fell asleep.

—-

The Doctor's office was downright claustrophobic. It was a small room with cinder block walls and white tile floors, cluttered with furniture and equipment, and it made him wholly uncomfortable. This was nothing like the wards back home. Though, he supposed, they knew what they were doing, the human doctors…

They sat there together, his legs sprawled out in front of him with Rae curled up on the chair to his right. She leaned wearily against him, and he held her hand tightly in both of his. His fingers trembled, and he was terrified, more than anything, that this doctor's news would snatch her away from him.

He eventually joined the patient couple, coming into the room with a folder of sorts. He greeted them and flicked on a device that resembled a light table. The things he took out of the folder, he pinned to the machine so that the light shone through it and illuminated the entire picture, heightening the contrast between the black and the grey.

Tracy's heart stuttered in his chest.

It was an ultrasound.

His hands tightened around Rae's and he pulled his knees up, looking over at her suddenly, trying to form words.

"Congratulations, you two," the doctor said sweetly. "The first Trimester has been reached, and they seem to be doing well."

It was all too much for the fairy. He stopped in his frantic bid to form a complete sentence, instead settling on trying to organize his thoughts as he stared slack jawed at his wife, who had that well-known sly grin on and tears in her eyes.

"You're pregnant." he managed. She nodded, encouraging him on. He looked at the ultrasound that hung on the machine. He'd seen ultrasounds of Michelle and Lucas when Rae had had them done, but there was something entirely unusual about this one. He looked again, his heart unsure if it wanted to stop dead or fight its way out of his chest. "They." he muttered. "They. He said they…" he looked back at his wife.

"Twins." she whispered, leaning in towards him.

"Twins." he repeated. Realization seemed to dawn slowly, his eyes widening and one low gasp being sucked in before it dawned and he all but exploded. "Twins!_ Twins!_" he nearly shouted. "Oh, mother of Mab!" he slumped back into his chair, a nervous, excited smile plastered over his face. "We're going to have twins…"

She laughed lightly. "I know, Trace." she said, taking his hand back in hers and giving it a squeeze. "Twins."


	27. Delivery

Tracy was a nervous person by nature. Whenever something was off kilter in the office, he all but flew into a frenzy, and that was before he met Rae. He was so protective of her, he hated to see anything deviate, any hiccup in their plans or new obstacle in their lives.

Rae's first pregnancy was hectic. He was constantly scrambling, always nervous for his wife, as they were both unsure of the implications of the pregnancy, the parents being who they were. Rae tried to placate him throughout the first term, though it was more or less a lost cause, until the night baby Michelle was born, until the fright was over, replaced by the new terrifying, uncharted grounds of parenthood.

Tracy had no idea how to be a parent. The little things, like being able to put Michelle to sleep in the middle of the night, knowing what she needed and being able to take care of her while he let Rae sleep, those things seemed otherworldly to him, who had never known such unstable needs, nothing but organized paperwork and office hours. Still, he somehow seemed to know how to handle each situation on a subconscious level, and slowly the prospect of parenthood became less terrifying and more natural.

They raised Michelle, though having to explain to her about their small, happy family had been a task they'd put off for a while. Tracy and Rae knew that their union was an odd one, and that Michelle was an oddity in herself; while the adults were able to see past that, the children were not, and the discussion about love and marriage had occurred much sooner than either parent had planned.

It wasn't until Michelle was six - by human standards - that Rae was able to carry to term again, when little Lucas was born. After their second child was born, neither parent had expressed any plans to conceive again. But as they watched their children grow, Michelle graduating flight school and becoming an instructor, Lucas moving out to accommodate his schedule at the office, both parents realized how much they missed having young children, someone who was dependant, able to be taught and watched as they grew up before their eyes. They'd tried, for so long, to conceive again, but it never took, or something always went wrong. It was devastating, and the parents eventually gave up trying and hoping.

That's why when Rae told him that she was pregnant, that they were having twins, of all things, he leaned over the arm of the chair he sat in and kissed her, happily and fully, and he heard her laugh as he pulled back to see that tears had streaked little paths along her cheeks.

At the time he learned of the pregnancy, Rae was three months pregnant. They twins had survived the first trimester, and the chance of any mishaps had dropped considerably. It was entirely overwhelming for Tracy, who knew that he never handled these types of situations well to begin with. He found himself in a bit of a panic over the next few weeks, worrying about a whole new spectrum of problems that could arise from this pregnancy.

He dared not leave his wife's side when he could help it. He noticed how she advanced in her pregnancy much faster than she did with either Lucas or Michelle, which meant that she tired faster, sooner, that the hormones took their toll on her emotions, and that the next six months were highly unpleasant.

Tracy tried his best to comfort her during those trying months. She was more scared than he was, there was no doubt, and she would often wake in the middle of the night, convinced in her half-sleep that they'd lost the twins, and he would dry her tears and tell her that everything was fine, laying her back down and lull her back to sleep, rubbing a hand gently across the curve of her stomach, feeling a kick every now and then that simultaneously warmed him and sent shivers down his spine so that he would have to remind himself, that things would be allright.

Things would be fine, he told himself, and that was the truth.

They worked themselves into a bit of a routine, waking up from night terrors in the young hours of the morning, and perhaps that was why his reaction was a little slower than usual. She'd startled him awake with a cry, and he'd turned over to see her sitting halfway up, propping herself up on her elbows and gasping. "Tracy! Tracy, the twins!" was all that she managed, and he'd tried to placate her again, to tell her that everything was allright. When he looked up at her, he saw that she was not half-asleep as per the usual, that this was not the sleep-muddled result of a nightmare, and that she was wide awake. "No, no Tracy! The twins!"

As he threw the covers back and leapt from the bed, she let out a shrill laugh that sounded half elated and half terrified. He helped her stand, taking her in his arms and supporting her weight, seeing a large dark stain on the sheets where she'd been laying before he willed them from the house, right to the large double doors of the ward.

She let out a cry of pain and her knees buckled beneath her, her husband supporting her for the moment until a nurse came and took her away. Tracy kissed her forehead and told her he wouldn't be far behind, giving her hand a squeeze before she was torn from him.


	28. Twins

There was no peace for him that night. He was kept on the fringes of the ward, away from his wife during the delivery. He wrung his hands incessantly, pacing back and forth. He'd called Diane, talked to Michelle and Lucas, perhaps only to take his mind off of the events at hand in the very next room. Oh how he wished he could be with her. Both parents knew what to expect with childbirth, but that didn't make it any less nerve-wracking. Add the tacked on anxiety of it being a double delivery, and Tracy felt like he was about ready to pass out.

It wasn't unlike the night that Michelle was born. He recalled the anxiety ripping through his chest when Rae was taken from him the very first time, and even that was nothing like this, knowing that so much could go wrong. Twins were so uncommon among Fairy parents, thought not perhaps so among human parents. He leaned himself against the wall near the door and prayed to Mab that she could better handle twins than Fairy Folk.

When a Fae became pregnant, the fairy child drew it's magic from its parents. The magic helped them grow, integrating itself into the baby's body and making it a magical being. The magic helped the child to survive; indeed, fairies could not live without magic.

Rae had none.

Tracy had assumed that the existing capacity for magic already found in his DNA and the fact that Rae lived in Fairy Land, surrounded by raw magic, accounted for the their two healthy children, but even Fairies with an abundance of magic in their bodies sometimes couldn't handle bearing two children at once. It frightened him.

The anxiety was not calmed, however, when the door suddenly flew open, a nurse running out, down the hall. He seemed in a hurry, not bothering to even gesture that he'd heard Tracy's terrified questions. He looked back to the ward room, the door swinging shut. He knew he was not admitted into the room during the delivery, but how he wished he could be with her right now, to hold her and tell her that it was all going to be allright, that things were going to be fine and that they were going to have healthy twins.

He wished he could tell her this, to convince himself as much as to convince her; he wished for a lot of things that night. He wished that nurse would come back, take a moment to tell him how his wife and his prospective children were doing in the next room. And yet he found, that when the nurse finally did come back, he wished that he'd remained off running errands or something of that nature. The man came back, bounding at full speed back towards Rae's ward room, with at least four other nurses in tow. His heart sank in his chest and his stomach felt like it had dropped into oblivion.

What the nurses in her room needed with so much extra help, it scared him terribly. They approached quickly, and Tracy fought to find his voice, to demand someone tell him that she was allright, that the twins were fine, to tell him why in Mab's name they were filing so many nurses into her ward room. He croaked out his question, only to be ignored by the nurses, one by one as they filed past him. Some avoided his gaze.

He pitched forward at the last second, reaching one long arm out and grabbing hold of the last nurse in the procession, fist clamping around his upper arm and jerking him backwards, anxiety and anger in his eyes and he loomed over the woman. "What's happened," he asked, his voice greatly contrasting with his figure, soft and vulnerable.

There was a wail from the other side of the door, and Tracy looked from the woman, hearing his wife. It steadily grew in volume and urgency; the nurse ripped her arm from the man's grip, and he merely stood there, dumbfounded for a moment.

"I'm sorry, sir, you're just going to have to wait," she said, closing the distance between herself and the other doctors that had already filed into the room, and before Tracy could even get a word in, the door clicked shut, the lock turning and barring him from his wife. He threw himself forward, hoping to catch the door before it closed, but he wasn't fast enough. He could hear her from the other side, and he drew his wand right there, in the middle of the ward, pointing it decidedly at the lock, hoping to magic the door open again. To all his efforts, he figured the locks must have been reinforced. He was denied entry again and again, and was made to wait outside as he listened to her in there. She sounded like she were terribly in pain, and every note that drifted through the door stabbed at his heart.

One woman came up to him and tried to lead him from the door, knowing that he ought to leave, to let the nurses take care of his wife, but he would have none of it. He remained by the door, steeling himself when each new note rang through the hall.

Eventually they stopped.

His footfalls, his pacing, stopped as well. He listened intently for any noise she might make, any sign that she was still conscious, any noise at all.

There was silence.

Rae had been in labour for several hours. Though the fluorescent lights erased any difference between the night and day hours, the suns had risen over the horizon a few hours earlier, when one nurse slipped out of the room, not at all surprised to find Tracy there, still. He looked down at her, wide eyed and breathing heavily, still so uncertain, when she touched him gently at the elbow and gestured for him to follow her into the ward room.

The room was hot, choking almost, and crowded. Tracy spied another door off to the left of the room, but the bed in the centre was what caught his attention first and foremost.

She was pale and her head was tilted to the side, but her chest fell and rose steadily, and he let out a choked cry. He didn't dare disturb her sleep, not after the night she'd had, but he resolved that the moment she woke up, he would hold her. For now, he sat at the foot of the bed, watching her, wishing she didn't look so deathly.

Almost reluctantly, he looked away from her, at one of the nurses. Many of them had begun to leave the room, taking with them their papers and files, and leaving without so much as a word. "Well?" he whispered. "Is everyone allright?" he asked.

The only remaining nurse smiled at him, a genuine, happy smile.

—-

It was several hours later, Tracy sitting further up the bed and talking quietly with his wife when she woke. He brushed the hair from her eyes when she woke and she grabbed immediately for his hand, humming in confusion. She focused in on him and smiled. "Glad you could make it." she said quietly. He kissed her forehead, beaming down at her. "Where are the twins?" she asked.

"The nurses took them over to the next room," he said, nodding towards the door to the far left. "To make sure they're allright, give them their Bath. They'll be back, luv." he said, shushing her as she tried to sit up. She was terribly exhausted from the delivery, and Tracy could see it. She didn't fight him, but remained there on the bed with him, chatting softly, their hands never separating.

It took another hour or so for the nurses to come back, the door swinging open and the two striding up to the bed, each with a small blue bundle in their arms. One of the little boys was handed to Rae, who propped herself up on her pillows wearily, and the other was handed to Tracy, who took the child carefully, his hands trembling.

Rae moved a bit of blanket from the boy's face, and smiled down at her son. "Hi, Merry. It's mommy and daddy. Where's your brother?" she asked, looking up at Tracy. He got off the bed and kneeled at her side with Daniel, pulling the swaddle down so that his wife could see his face, quietly sleeping.

He looked up at her and could see tears running down her cheeks. He reached up carefully and thumbed them away, making her laugh.

"Twins," he said gently, smiling back at her.


End file.
